Mercurial Medieval Misdeeds
by Evanescently
Summary: The 1400s. Integra and Seras are Hungarian nobility. Their family of six has to deal with internal problems and a young Wallachian Prince named Vlad. What will happen in these continuing years of war, bloodshed, and turmoil? Who will win? Who will lose?
1. Part One: Hungarian Princess

**MERCURIAL MEDIEVAL MISDEEDS**

**A/N:** This story is most interesting because I've created a world filled with historical facts (of Vlad's life and his Hungarian 'allies') but that I also take liberties in as well. You've read the little snippet so you know what it's about. I hope you enjoy reading it. And, I know this story has probably been done before, though I haven't seen one. I recognize and bow to anyone who had done this one before; and I hope to talk to you someday. We both must be fascinated with history.

**Regent of Hungary**: Johan Hunyadi...b. 1407  
>((His daughters and sons eldest to youngest: Ladislaus, Integra, Seras, and then Matthias))<br>**Ladislaus:** The eldest son of the Hungarian family...b. 1433**  
>Integra ...<strong>b. 1436  
><strong>Seras ...<strong>b. 1438  
><strong>Matthias Corvinus:<strong> youngest brother...b. 1443  
><strong>Walter ...<strong>b. 1426  
><strong>Anderson ...<strong>b. 1426-ish  
><strong>Pip: ...<strong>b. 1435

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Part One: Hungarian Princess

A white horse rounded the corner of a small boulder, its neck bulging with muscles and legs pounding the ground with determination as it gripped the earth with massive strides. A fair rider rode atop the massive animal as it strode forward and leaped over a rotting log. Kicking dirt into the air, the horse tossed its head and snorted fiercely. The rider's heart raced with anticipation as the next obstacle approached: a stream. Wind whipped at her face when she pulled stray strands out of her way, cursing at her long, flowing braids. She braced, and the horse grunted as its hind legs kicked out from underneath them both to sent them sailing over the stream, clearing it by a foot.

The rider inhaled and laughed as hoof met ground; she felt like a free spirit once more. After being locked up in her father's castle for a month, finally there was a sunny day where she could ride. Her hands immediately constricted the horse, bracing the bit's metal bar against its mouth. The beast made a deep whinny in complaint as she continued to pull on the reins until it slowed down. Its white mane and neck were already lathered with sweat, but she didn't hesitate to pat her mount. He did well for being cooped up in the barn for a month. She definitely knew this feeling and could empathize.

"Easy there. Let's get you back to the barn. We had a fun morning, but I'd better take you back before you injure yourself on my account," the rider murmured.

Sealing their silent agreement with another pat and stroke across the neck, she neck-reined the horse in the direction back toward the castle. The young woman weaved the horse in between the thick and lush trees of the forest. Everywhere, she saw green. It uplifted her spirits to know that spring was arriving after months of rain and snow. The forest was quiet, and too quiet for most. But she didn't mind the absence of sound, aside from the birds. It beat sitting around and discussing politics with the regent's court, of which she was a part. Even though she excelled at triumphing over her adversarial subjects and the nobles, she hated the act. It was never her first choice of being nobility; she would much rather lead a simpler tale and ride horses all her life than attend to the country's needs and well-being. In her mind, it took far more than a handful of people to decide what was best.

She finally found a clearing in the thick forest and led her mount across the fields of grass. In the near distance, the young woman could see the tall and fortressed castle and the barn as well. Ominous clouds approached from the south and she decided to gain speed. She clucked to the horse and then bounded off into a fast trot. The rider easily sat through the gait, watching her autumn colored dress elegantly drape over the backside of her horse. Finally deciding to lightly kick the horse, she cantered forward into a lope over the rolling hills of tall grass.

Inhaling the fresh and cold air, she approached the side of the castle and was let in by a familiar servant with a crop of short, dark brown hair. The rider's blue eyes watched the sky darken as thunder vibrated the ground. Her long blonde hair whipped the sides of her cheeks like a bird's talons as she reined her horse in. He jumped at the sound of thunder, but quickly regained composure.

"Lady Integra, how was your trip?" Walter asked with a hand outstretched to grab the reins of the horse.

Integra swung one foot over and slid gracefully down. "It went well. He needs more practice at the trot. He never has patience to trot for very long. How is my father doing?"

Walter swallowed hard and cleared his throat as he un-tacked the mount. "Well, he is returning from another Wallachian battle. He was able to put one of our allies on the throne this time. Citizens of Hungary certainly don't like the idea of Ottomans invading Hungary, and it's good that our regent is taking every measure to accomplish this…but there seems to be little choice."

Integra's eyes sparkled with intrigue. "And why's that?" she led the horse to a hitching post and reached for a wash cloth. Bringing it to eye level and observing the water drip down, she proceeded to wash the horse's wet back.

Walter lightly touched her shoulder, "Please, my Lady, I can do that."

Integra smiled retracting her hand out of his reach, "Walter, you know I love riding, and you how I love taking care of my animals. Don't think I'm like my cousin, Ilona."

Walter abruptly stopped and returned her smile, "Of course not."

"Now, what about having little choice?" she asked, resuming her task.

Walter's jaw visibly tightened, "Well, our army is holding up against little skirmishes around the borders, but we need a real threat; something that can stop the Ottomans in their tracks."

Integra paused, brushing one of her two long braids out of her eyes, "Then I suggest that you pray, Walter, and pray well. We seem to be the only bulwark in the way of the Ottomans advancing further west."

He nodded with a grunt and left to hang the horse's tack up. He lifted the saddle with ease and shifted his weight in the tack room to place the pads and saddle atop a wooden hanger. He then swung the bridle around his shoulder and walked out to rinse the bit of the spit and slobber. A look of interest entered his own eyes as he watched Integra from the side.

"Your sister has many ideas about the country, you know. She thinks that the poor should be distributed more bread, the nobles less land, the workers better pay, and standards of living to increase."

Integra chuckled, "Seras has many ideas-good ideas-but they will never hold their own weight. She is too naïve, too inexperienced, too young. Her visions of the future are bright, but she has a broadened sense of what is possible, when, in reality, what we can do is little, especially in this time of turmoil."

"Indeed," Walter rubbed at the bit and dunked it in a bucket of clear water. "I suppose you have alternatives to this?"

Integra stopped working and gave her servant a sidelong look, "I see. Trying to lightly pry the information out of me bit by bit?"

Her servant felt his cheeks warm. "Your own father, regent and for all intents and purposes, the enacting King of Hungary and certainly its guardian, wishes to know what goes on in that head of yours. Even _he_ has trouble reading your faces, and he constantly comes to me looking for answers. I repeatedly have to remind him that I, too, know not what happens within that keen mind."

His Lady laughed angelically and tossed her flaxen hair defiantly to the wind, "That's half the battle there: making sure your opponents don't read you. It brings quite the advantage."

Walter dumped the bucket of water and hung the bridle in the tack room next to Integra. He walked back out and accompanied her to the castle, shivering as the wind picked up speed and watching the clouds grow nearer and nearer. "So you think the Governor your enemy? An 'opponent'?"

Integra faltered in her step, almost stumbling off balance, but she quickly regained her composure. "Never. He's just good practice," she added with a smile.

The pair walked through the side yard along a stone pathway and up the damp steps to the castle, both feeling the smooth stone underneath their shoes. Integra watched rows of trees and the tall grass whip loudly as more wind picked up. The young woman then turned to eye the intimidating, large edifice. The castle had tall and strong defense towers, an interior courtyard, and a drawbridge that had just been completed. Hunyad Castle had soft, red colored roofs with pointed towers, myriad windows, and balconies adorned with stone carvings, some with the coat of arms. It was built gracefully above the small river, Zlasti, which Integra could see every morning from her window.

Walter opened the large wooden door for his Lady and stepped inside after her. A gust of warm air hit Integra as she shielded her eyes from the sudden hot burst of wind. Uncovering them immediately from her long sleeves to investigate, she blinked and smiled upon seeing the small side room. A few guards had started a fire in the fireplace and were warming their hands. One man was chewing on a small chunk of bread. Both were wearing chain mail capes, and a leather belt with sheathed swords at the hips. Their shields had been cast aside, leaning on the legs of the table. Walter narrowed his eyes at the scene.

"And what is _this_? Two guards who are supposed to be on watch, yet they continue to please their shivers by _sitting_, no less, near a fireplace?" the servant stated, not attempting to hold back disgust in his words.

Both jumped up from their seats and grabbed their accompanying shields, "_So_ terribly sorry! We just were freezin' out there and wanted to come in for a minute," one rushed.

"Honest, we'd only been sitting here for _two minutes_!" the other promised.

"Yes, and those _two minutes_ could have been spent watching for enemies. Do you really wish for the Ottomans to breach our security? Do you want them to break through and murder every last one of us, take our women in as slaves, and butcher our children?" Walter escalated until he could see the whites of their eyes.

"NO! WE'LL LEAVE RIGHT NOW!" one of the guards shouted in fear.

Suddenly, everyone heard a door open and close. All three men looked up and saw Integra carrying a pail of water in between her hands, a wry smile spread across her face. She hoisted it up and set it on a hanger next to the fireplace to heat up. She then brushed her braids aside and turned to face the baffled men.

"Well, Walter, that was truly theatrical, a wonderful piece. I hope you got your point across, because you lost me at Ottomans breaching our security. Honestly, I couldn't ask for finer guards."

Walter gritted his teeth as the guards started to laugh nervously. "My Lady, they were disobeying protocol, they abandoned their posts, they lit a fire, stole bread, and did everything short of napping on their own watches."

Integra walked up to both guards and put her hands on their shoulders. "Then a fresh pot of ground up leaves for tea should brighten them up, don't you think?" she turned to the reddish-blonde. He smiled, already calming down.

"I agree with her," he nodded.

Integra turned back to her servant, "Everything you've said thus far has characterized them as not only tired since they sought sanctuary in this room, but that they are now exhausted _and_ famished from spending time all day in the cold and wet. I believe," she continued, despite Walter closing his eyes tightly shut, "that if they get a ten minute break and sit here to warm themselves, instead of catching some sickness where we would then be two guards short, they will feel even _better_."

"But, my Lady, they-" Walter began.

"What say you?" Integra turned back around to the guards.

"Agreed!" they stated eagerly and sat back down, abandoning their shields once more.

Walter groaned and slapped his forehead. Why did Integra have to challenge his authority? Granted, he was her servant, but in a time of war, everyone should be vigilant, everyone should be prepared, not gathering to talk and to have fun while taking breaks. Such conduct would surely enrage the regent…

"Walter," Integra startled his thoughts back into reality, "Would you care to join us?" she now asked without any color of sarcastic politeness.

He straightened his clothes out of habit and joined in, keeping quiet the whole time. He committed himself to watching Integra skillfully dunk herbal leaves and listen to the guards' banter. At one point, he even left to get a loaf of bread for a snack. He'd been working all day and forgot to eat lunch as well. The sun had set long ago as the group of four laughed and drank ground up herbal tea together. Integra was considering making soup when the reddish-blonde began to speak of her father.

"We'd learned today that Lord Hunyadi was returning from Wallachia by a messenger. He came back victorious, for he placed Lord Vladislav II to the throne. They came away as heroes!" he exclaimed.

Integra laughed, "As long as I won't be seeing any Ottomans on Hungarian soil, I'm happy."

"Indeed. Our White Knight was even able to chase that Ottoman puppet boy out –what was his name?" he turned to his friend.

"Sir Vladislaus III, I think," the other said and broke off the last of the bread.

"YES! _That_ was his name. Apparently he was some young lad who the Ottomans used to place on the throne of Wallachia so that we wouldn't regain its territory," he nodded and took another swig.

Integra exchanged a glance with Walter. He looked mildly concerned, even disturbed slightly. The expression caught her off guard she almost whispered to him, asking what was ailing his mind. However, Integra's years of etiquette and understanding how closed off her servant could be when discussing his feelings made her think better of it. She sat quietly instead.

"I should like to be in that army someday," the reddish-blonde continued, the glance gone unnoticed by either of the guards, "The thrill, the struggle, the power of victory, the rush to achieve perfection on the battlefield…" he gazed at the fire that crackled as new wood was fed into it.

Integra's lip curled into a smile, "With that determination, you will be one soon enough."

He turned to look at her, "All of it is enough to fill a man's heart."

Integra chuckled, "What's your name?"

The soldier straightened his slouching stature, "Pip, my Lady. At your service."

The young Lady eyed his profile and nodded, "I could definitely put in a good word, for you, to my father."

Walter cleared his throat, "_Provided_ that you do not seek respites here and there like some inexperienced messenger boy."

Both guards swallowed and frowned. They turned to Integra for support, but she leaned back in her tall chair and nodded as well.

"Yes, I agree. You must be trustworthy," she turned to her servant who had pushed his seat in and extended his hand to her.

Walter's eyes were controlled, but the foundation of pleading upon which the gesture was built could not hide itself well from her. She gently took his hand and stood up, curtsying to the guards as they stood as well, seeming to follow her lead quite nervously.

"It was lovely to meet you, my Lady," Pip smiled as he bowed deeply for her. The other did so but was mute.

Integra bowed her head in recognition and proceeded to be led out of the warm room. Walter opened the door for her and stepped outside, along with his dignity. But as he turned to face his beloved master, her face was troubled with a frown. It creased that lovely taut forehead into wrinkles akin to her father's. She paused only for a moment before walking alongside him. As he escorted her to her bedchamber, she exhaled a short and sweet breath.

"I worry myself, I guess," she murmured.

Walter ruefully smiled, "You must get that from me. As long as you don't act upon your judgments and paranoia, then you will lack any regrets in life."

Integra paused as they reached her door and looked into his eyes. Did he say that from personal experience? The thought left as soon as it came when she could hear Seras inside singing a tune. "Do you think this war will bring bloodshed? Do I have reason to worry for my loved ones?"

She looked into beautiful gray eyes. They lowered at her question, letting his brown hair cover a portion of his head and eyes to mask them from her. He was never one to lie, but he was never one to say the truth of his feelings. Dancing around it was always his specialty.

"I think it is the Ottomans' move next," the young man muttered, his calm and calculating eyes exposing the ten years of knowledge he had over her.

She nodded and opened the doors to her bedchamber. "Then Hungary will be waiting…" she whispered.

.•*´¨`*•.

~This story is going to be as historically accurate as possible, just with the exceptions of the Hellsing crowd (heehee) so I hope everything will flow nicely. I've now buried byself in Vlad's history, as well as the Hungarian Monarchy, and lemme tell you: if you thought Vlad's life was hellish, my word, the drama and trauma that the Hungarian monarchy endures give the Impaling Lord a run for his money!~

Feel free to drop me a note. This historic journey should prove to be exciting!


	2. The Return of the Regent Governor

**A/N:** Sweeeeet, already got some reviews :D Here's the second chapter for the story!

~I tried looking up Hungarian dresses of the 1400s, and it didn't give me a lot to work with. So I just tried my best and made what I think would deserve to be royal dresses. I'm sorry if they're not accurate~

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

The Return of The Regent

Integra woke up the next morning to hear birds chirping outside of her window. She stirred and stretched her arms out past the length of the covers, exposing skinny white arms and long, bony fingers. Immediately, she felt uncomfortable and shot her arms back underneath the covers and looked around. Citizens were not allowed to show much skin, especially women. They were only allowed to show as much as their dresses were permitted; and considering that she was nobility, she had to look particularly refined to the general public.

Integra rolled over and groaned as she heard someone giggle. The pressure on the bed gave indication that someone had sat down on it and was now staring at her, and Integra didn't have to wonder who it was.

"IIIINNNTTTEEEGGGRRRRAAAA!" Seras called from less than a foot away, "It's time to get uuuuuppp!"

Integra rolled back over to face her little sister with a grin, "And of course I needed that volume to wake me. I was already alert."

Seras grinned back and lowered her head, bangs of strawberry blonde hair covering her eyes, "Yes, but I will hear such volume come forth from your lips when you've heard my news."

Integra raised one eyebrow, "Is that so?"

"Indeed, it is," Seras nodded, "Our father has returned from Wallachia and will be here within the day."

"OUR FATHER! I FORGOT!" Integra remembered, ripping the blankets off of her body and jumping out of her bed. Seras screeched as leaped out of the way as Integra ran to her closet.

"Well I expected as much for the action. But why did you say 'I forgot'? That implies that you already knew father was coming back," Seras stated the last sentence slowly.

Her older sister paused, still looking away and shuffling through dresses, "I…I did find out. A guard told me yesterday late in the evening."

"Whom, may I ask?" Seras walked over to her closet and began to rummage through her own dresses.

"Umm, I believe it was Pip," Integra almost lost her train of thought as she pulled out a beautiful blue dress.

It was a houppelande dress colored deep red, gold, and ivory with long, golden sleeves flaring out. But the sleeves, however, were snug at the wrist, making a full "bag" sleeve. The bag sleeve was slashed in the front to allow the lower arm to reach through. It would be worn over a kirtle, under gown, and the beginnings of a V-neck that showed a glimpse of the square-necked kirtle began to show. The chest gave a little flirtation with a low hem, but was moderate in its give.

Seras wore a blue dress with the skirt of it ruffled into beautiful layers, embroidered lace in patterns at the hems of each end. It also had a train in the back at least two feet that was also adorned with ivory lace against the deep blue of the dress. A single ivory strip fell down the middle of the dress, starting from the chest. She smiled; it would be a lovely dress to wear for her father's return.

"Oh, that guard," Seras paused.

It was more than enough to make her older sister wonder. "What does that lack of emotion mean?"

"Nothing, if not showing disinterest."

Integra frowned, but let it go. She had too much to worry about today that trying to pry any information out of Seras needed to be put on hold. Both sisters smiled and complemented on the other as they fit into their dresses. Integra's tied up the back, and Seras gently knotted it from breaking loose. Then the girls switched and Integra helped Seras into her dress that came to an unforgiving corset-tight torso at the hips from the chest. The younger sister sucked in a breath and exhaled as Integra tied the last string and stepped back a few paces.

"I don't know how you like the tightness of it so much," Integra shook her head.

"You're wearing one just as tight as well," Seras pointed out, looking over her blue dress with its different ivory patterns across the skirt.

"Yes, but I have little choice in the matter. We must look presentable to the regent," Integra sighed and walked over to her window. She pushed the drapes away to look outside and into a wonderfully green world. Trees swayed gently in the breeze, birds tweeted and sang songs to their mates, and the Zlasti River down bellow softly moved, its currents ambling toward the sea.

Seras smiled, walking to the door, "Well, you always look beautiful in your dresses."

Integra left the drapery to the side and joined her sister; her mind was elsewhere. "Let's hope that there are few casualties."

.•*´¨`*•.

Walter rushed around the massive kitchen with a mad look in his eye. Servants ran around the counters carrying spices, sugar, salt, bread, and fresh meat within their grasps. The returning of a ruler from battle was certainly something to be overjoyed…unless one was a servant or a guard. Walter dodged another man running with the thighs of a deer. A spray of blood, nevertheless, coated his lovely attire and marred the whites of his undershirt. Gritting teeth pressured his mouth into a snarl and his eyes into a glare as Walter snatched a tall chair and stood on top of it.

"Alright! Everyone, listen up! The regent has arrived with the army and he expects a huge meal to be prepared within the hour! Everyone carrying a spice, I want you over by the cabinet of spices sorting out them from hottest to mildest! Everyone carrying bread, I want you to stand over by the yeast bin and sort them in neat piles to keep space available. Everyone carrying sugar and salt, go to opposite ends of the room so we don't confuse which is which. And lastly, every one carrying meat, go to the fireplace and roast it on a stick, understood?" Walter inhaled for air. A huge pause engulfed the room as people absorbed the information, and then chaos swept the order away once more as servants then rushed to get to their stations.

The man stepped down from his podium and placed the chair back in its place beside a counter. With a sigh that whispered his abandoning hope, he then strode across the room to help servants prepare the meat. They almost looked completely lost, putting on a dead boar first.

"No, no, no, no! What are you three doing? You put on the smaller meats since they cook faster. If we put the boar on first, no royalty will be eating meat until tomorrow!" Walter slapped his head and grabbed other limbs from the counter.

"Sorry, sir. We just thought that they'd want the huge animal first," one servant mumbled.

Walter groaned, knowing this would be a long hour to two.

.•*´¨`*•.

"Matthias, come quickly!" Integra chided as her youngest brother ran up to her.

A little boy with light brown hair and light blue eyes poked his head around the door to his room. His hair was neatly combed and face thoroughly washed until the pale white skin of his cheeks stood out against the gray stone walls of the castle. An angered expression shaped his face at being so rudely spoken to.

"I'm sorry, but my servant was taking for_ever_ to dress me!" he yelled back at her across the hallway.

Seras giggled at the sight. He was wearing a gambeson long t-shirt, black tights accompanied the outfit with a matching belt that had gold carved into the simple brown pattern. Yet, something was missing…

"Your sword!" Seras exclaimed.

Matthias's face grew bright red, "I don't believe it! I forgot my sword!"

Integra turned to the nine year old. "I'm sure you won't need that little sword, young soldier. We're already late."

The group of three ran down the hallways and corridors of the castle, their footfalls echoing through the ancient stone walkways. They were laughing, screaming, shouting for joy and racing one another down the spiral staircases to the dining hall. Wind whipped at their faces in the open hallways as the greenery between each pillar flashed past them. Integra looked out and watched the trees grow in front of her as the group descended the castle.

"You can't catch me!" Matthias screamed as they whooshed past another pair of bewildered guards.

"Matthias, slow down, you'll hurt yourself!" Integra cupped her hands by her mouth as she jogged.

But even Seras wouldn't listen; she was chasing after him with her arms outstretched, as if she would grab him. Integra sighed and smiled, still trailing behind even though she could easily catch up and snatch her little brother. However much Integra knew she should, the young woman didn't. It felt like a certain innocence ran inside Seras and Matthias's veins, and she wanted to preserve that innocence intact for a few more years. At least, before these battles get any worse…

Seras and Matthias both turned a sharp corner and out of Integra's sight. When the eldest heard both of them scream, her heart skipped a beat. Feet started to pound the ground, catching up to her siblings.

"Are you alright?" Integra yelled. Her body was now at a full sprint and her feet's contact with the stone proved loud like clapping hands. She rounded the corner and used a pillar to slingshot herself. Skidding to a halt, her eyes lit up and her face lifted into a smile of joy. A young man of tall stature wearing armor and a circular helmet wobbled to keep balance.

"Ladislaus is here!" Seras shouted as she clung to her eldest brother by his waist. Matthias was attached to his back as he climbed up the shoulders and wrapped his arms around Ladislaus's collarbone.

Integra watched him flash a smile, his dark blonde curls curled just above his blue eyes and just below the silver rim of his helmet. He reached down and hugged Seras with one arm and then reached up to pat Matthias with the other.

"It wasn't my intention to scare anyone, but I heard your voices, so I came running as well," Ladislaus stated with a deep, matured voice.

"It took you long enough to return, brother," Integra softly chided, though she smiled.

"Indeed, I did believe so too. However, it was our father who wished to stay another week in Wallachia to make sure that Lord Vladislav II was in control of his territory," the young man straightened up as Seras and Matthias let go and climbed down.

Integra stood apart from him one moment longer and then grabbed him. The metal chest plate bumped against her head with a thud, but she didn't care. Her long arms shot out and wrapped themselves around his torso and squeezed. Ladislaus laughed and gently held her back, his head dropping to her ear level. Integra began to hold back a sentimental lump in her throat as she reflexively swallowed.

"I missed you, too," Ladislaus chuckled, "It's a good thing I healed right up."

Integra's eyes widened in horror, "You were injured?"

"It was merely a flesh wound. I feinted right, but the Ottoman saw it coming and breached my armor. It didn't get infected or anything," her eldest brother reassured her.

But Integra's eyes grew dark with hatred, hatred that Ladislaus was unsure if it was channeled at him or not. The young woman let go and felt her hands ball into fists as well as her face began to warm. The thought of any Ottoman even scratching Ladislaus made her innards twist into knots and thrash inside. He noticed this emotion and cleared his throat, watching her eyes return to his.

"Integra," Ladislaus murmured, "it was not that bad. Please, war already is propelled by hate; do not add to it," he brought her head to his chest and held her for a moment longer.

She swallowed hard and inhaled deeply. The thought of losing any of her siblings was catastrophic to say the very least. They broke apart and smiled to the other, determined to enjoy the rest of the evening. The group then proceeded to walk to the dining hall side by side. Seras and Matthias followed quietly, not so much as speaking one word. Instead, they voted to listen and absorb of what their eldest brother and sister spoke.

.•*´¨`*•.

Walter wiped the sweat off of his brow as he returned from _finally_ changing his blood-stained shirt, no thanks to a clumsy servant earlier. The room was still bustling with more bread and cooked meat. Women huddled around the plates and placed slices of bread, vegetables, and clumps of meat. Men stoked the fire around the meat and huddled off in search of more salt. Everything was getting set in motion for a wonderful feast that evening, and Walter felt butterflies flutter within his stomach.

He walked forward and inspected the bowls and plates of food. His keen eyes ran over to the aged wine and to the mixing soup that came first. Both smelled absolutely delicious as he used a spoon to dip into the thick stew. Bringing it to his lips, he lightly darted his tongue out and tasted.

"More salt," he ordered and left their station for the drinks.

"Walter!" one servant shouted, "They're beginning!"

Staffs in the dining hall, the next room, hit the floor announcing that the nobles were arriving on the scene. The room echoed of trumpets playing outside near the entrance upon their official arrival.

"Shit!" Walter practically spit out the soup he barely swallowed, "Everyone hurry and get to your places. Girls, get the plates finished and ready yourselves! The first course is coming up!"

Servants shouted over each other as another scene of chaos erupted through the room. Walter jogged around from spices to meat, making sure that everything was in order. A few other highly regarded servants, such as he, were also herding lower servants around to complete tasks. However, as Walter paused to observe the whole picture, he noted that most everything was, in fact, in its place. Mentally patting himself, Walter turned to the massive wooden door and dared to peek.

Tables had been connected together, candles had been lit, carpet had been laid out on the floor, tall chairs had been scooted into their rightful places, and celebratory decorations had been draped over any naked spot to brighten the room. Stone walls were almost completely covered in flowered streamers. The regent's court had already arrived and was talking amongst themselves as they stood. Upon the sounds of the instruments outside, everyone parted to make way for the regent and his commanders.

Walter inhaled a deep breath and slightly jumped as the two huge wooden doors from the outside swung open and hit the walls behind. The regent, a man in his early forties, paced slowly into the room, his hard and chiseled face seemed carved from marble. Though he had taken off his armor, he was dressed in tight pants, a gambeson accompanied with skins for a cape, and a matching sword and belt fit loosely across his waist. Beady, dark eyes darted around the room, watching every move of his people as he walked for his throne. Once he was halfway across the floor of the room, commanders entered and followed. Cheers started to erupt and hoots and hollers carried their volume all around to give the men a hero's welcome.

Integra, Seras, and Matthias walked up to their father, now seated in the throne, and paused. Matthias was the first to bow graciously and kneel to the floor.

"Father, it is good to see you return," he whispered shyly. He looked up into his father's smiling face.

"And you as well, Matthias," the regent stated. Then his gaze traveled passed the little boy and to his older sisters.

Integra walked forward and curtsied deeply, bowing her head in recognition, "I'm grateful for your return." Seras curtsied as well.

The regent grinned and relaxed into his seat more. He could feel their beauty in those dresses radiate through and strike every man in the room. His two lovely daughters were certainly growing up right before his eyes.

"My sweet Integra and Seras, you make a father most proud," he glanced to Ladislaus, "And a brother most proud. The castle is still intact and well-fed, I see. Then, let the feast begin!"

Cheers filled the room once more as people proceeded to sit around the massive and long dinner table. Seras and Matthias rushed back to their seats and took spots on either side of Ladislaus. Integra smiled as she took a spot next to her youngest brother. Servants shot out from the kitchen carrying drinks and the first course of many meals to come. Cups were filled, plates were placed down, and silverware was uncovered along with beautiful napkins.

The young Lady cast a glance toward her eldest brother, easily looking over Matthias. His helmet was gone and discarded somewhere within the armory, his hair combed through the snags and knots, and his face held a brighter disposition to it than earlier. She had imagined that it was probably because of the happier setting in which they were.

Integra looked back down at her filling plate and bit at her lip; she knew Ladislaus would never tell her the horrid tales and stories of war, no matter how many times she asked. He would always say it wasn't gentlemanly of him to describe what it felt like, what he had to do. But Integra was ever curious, ever watchful, and ever persistent in what she wanted. Sooner or later, she had to know, especially since the war was now coming to Hungary. Of that, she was certain.

.•*´¨`*•.

Thank you for my two reviews! I believe that this is a good start, and fear not: a certain Lord will show up next chapter (and in real history, he does show up)

Next chapter will have lots of tension! muhahahaha


	3. Unexpected 'Guest'

**A/N:** Chapter three! Chapter two was meant to feel hectic. It was quite a hectic day :) The Grand Viziers Council was made up, but I have to have Anderson in here somewhere! My greater mind is at work here, so hopefully this chapter seems more tied together in its diction.

~For all of you who are also reading Return of a NoLife King in 2030, there will be an update!~

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Unexpected 'Guest'

Raucous laugher, joyous shouts, and smiling faces brought forth a congratulatory atmosphere throughout the dining hall. Gesticulating arms, heated conversations, and hugging guests seemed to overwhelm the room, massive as it was. And yet one man, the governor, sat alone with his slightly suspicious face, eyeing the inhabitants. He seemed to be a spectator rather than the main event. However, he was not alone in the dining hall who felt the same way.

Integra also chose to watch than interact with the massive crowds huddling and hanging over the table while eating carnivorous amounts of meats and vegetables. The scene looked akin to a Dionysian party with drunkards already walking -or rather falling- around and back to their seats. All that was needed were grapes and togas. Integra glanced outside, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. The sun had long since set in the west, and crickets, she could barely hear, were chirping. The moon and all of her creatures of the night were out and about, Integra could see. Owls and bats rushed from their trees of sanctuary to the open near the river Zlasti to catch moths and other insects. The night intrigued her, fascinated her, and frightened her a little. Workers always quit when the sun was setting, and were in bed before the last ray of light vanished. Only candles and candelabras could be someone's friend in such an abyssal setting.

The young Lady turned slightly around in her chair and glanced back at the kitchen. As the double wooden doors constantly opened and closed, she saw glimpses of Walter shouting orders and carrying out his duty as head chef. She suddenly felt a wave of pity consume her at all the hard work he restlessly committed himself to everyday without many breaks. Walter walked out with another platter of meat and noticed Integra looking at him. He briefly nodded and bowed his head. She bowed her head in exchange and watched him agilely dodge guests and maneuver around to the center table. Once placing the platter down, he swiftly turned on his heels and headed back to help the other servants.

"Well, this bores me," Matthias sighed and slouched in his seat.

Integra smiled at the adorable sigh and leaned over in her chair. "Just think of them as your subjects, how you must please them and the kingdom to be a good ruler."

"But I'm never going to _be_ a ruler!" Matthias pouted and slammed his fist on the table.

"In time, you will," Ladislaus chuckled, reaching over to pet his younger brother on the head.

Matthias batted his arm away and grabbed another leg of a lamb. "I'm just going to be Seras's dress-up doll forever."

Seras gasped and frowned, "But you've always looked so cute in that jester outfit!"

The family laughed, and even the regent smiled, hearing that comment. Integra, however, hadn't even heard what Matthias replied; she was staring at one of her father's royal advisers, Lord Anderson. Years ago, the regent-governor and the previous King of Hungary created a Grand Viziers Council to overlook and oversee establishments being made. The King and regent thought it was for the best, but now Integra constantly thought that Lord Anderson and his 'entourage' of advisors sought more power than they needed.

"As I said, my Lord, we need more recruits for Hungary's army. There are just not enough men to use, and we can't waste any more lives," Anderson murmured.

The governor grunted as he took another swig of wine. "I see your point, Alexander, but where can I find them if there are 'not enough to go around'?" he turned to face his advisor.

"Your Lordship, I believe that since the force of your word is Law, you are capable of creating a mandatory order to have all men over the age of fourteen in our army," the advisor continued just as the regent spoke to object, "the Ottomans have advanced passed Bosnia and have infected as low as Mardin. We are _next_; they look west for more land," Anderson raised his voice slightly.

The regent sighed, but then frowned, as if reality had struck him in the face. He did not desire to stretch his army out for the Ottomans to then breach, as if their battles lines were too thin. However, there needed to be more bodies, more men, and more allies. He needed to have support from other countries, and from other monarchies. So far, what he had was not enough; and the growing realization of asking his people, young boys barely of age, to fight and die for him started to eat at the back of his mind.

Integra grumbled angrily at watching her father buckle. Just as she was about to excuse herself from the table and walk over to interrupt Lord Anderson's moment of triumph, the two huge double doors of the dining hall burst open in a loud bang. They swung full around their hinges and then hit the walls behind them as guards came rushing in. Two guards at the front and two guards at the rear seemed to encircle a problem. Everyone in the room seemed hushed to a standstill as they quietly moved out of the way, returning to their seats. Integra smiled as she saw Pip in the middle of the circle restraining a man by the arms and torso with much difficulty.

"Everyone, except the regent-governor's court, leave now," the regent shouted, understanding a threatening situation, and immediately heard the shuffling of frantic feet to flee the scene.

Integra, glancing at Matthias and Seras, became nervous for their safety. Even if it was only one man, clearly restrained, she didn't like the idea of danger around her younger siblings. Ladislaus was already on his feet, and stood protectively next to his father.

"My Lord, we have encountered an enemy lurking about," the lead guard bowed, though swiftly to keep an eye on the detained. The other guards followed, but Pip only managed to bow his head to keep his balance.

"And what is _this_?" their leader asked, still sitting on his throne. A harsh, monarchical voice accompanied the words.

"This is-" Pip began to say.

"Lord Vladislaus III Dracula, son of Lord Vlad II Dracul," the hunched over and restrained man stated, his voice deep and ominous. Matted hair covered much of his face, and his hunched over body did not help to reveal what he looked like either.

The regent's eyes widened and his frown deepened. "What business do you have here? I thought you had died back in Wallachia when I conquered and chased you out."

The man hesitated, which gave Integra more time to examine the new intruder. He was a man of tall stature, like Ladislaus, but he had raven black hair shoulder length, dark hazel eyes, oddly pale skin, and sunken cheeks, denoting malnourishment. His clothing was tattered to a sliced cotton shirt that was once presumably white, a tainted, deep red cape with gold tassels and a rope that draped over his collar bone, a belt and sword that hung loosely around bony hips, and ill-fitted black pants already experiencing the signs of mud-encrusted fabric. He looked absolutely filthy, and absolutely vengeful. The only thing that stopped Integra from making her presence noticed were his concentrating, dark, mysterious, and cold eyes. They seemed to chill her where she stood, though she stood her ground, unflinching at the sight.

"Well? Are you going to answer me or shall I throw you in the dungeon?" the regent grew impatient. Integra saw a slight nod from Ladislaus.

"My business, as like any other man in this fight, is to slay the Ottomans," the man muttered, continuing to struggle against an armed Pip.

Ladislaus burst into laughter, clutching his stomach and wheezing for breath. The action caused his father to jump slightly in his seat, though he quickly covered it up by coughing his annoyance. Ladislaus ceased the action and managed to control it with a chuckle.

"Father, you can't believe this man," he began, "He is one of the _Ottomans_. This could be their best trick yet, letting in one of their own and murdering you once he gains your trust."

"Are you finished, son?" the regent turned his head slowly and shot him a warning look.

"…Yes," Ladislaus seethed and closed his jaw tightly.

The governor then turned back around to his prisoner. "I don't think I'll be murdered right now; the situation is just two men talking. Now, Lord Vladislaus III, son of Lord Vlad II, what could possibly make me believe that you are on _our_ side?"

Ladislaus smiled, realizing that his father had agreed with him from the beginning. Integra watched quietly, as did Seras and Matthias.

"Indeed. What could possibly make me want to fight for Christianity? Set aside the fact that my father sold my brother and I to the Ottomans as insurance that he would not lose power. Set aside the fact that I attempted to escape Edirne thirty times, was imprisoned and often whipped and beaten because of verbal abuse towards my trainers and stubborn behavior. Set aside that I was born in Transylvania and was not born a Turk," Vlad stated, letting an edge carry his voice, "The one thing I should want you to remember from this explanation is that I was initiated into something I think you've heard of over the years."

"And what, good prisoner, would that be?" the Lord sighed, already thinking of executing Vlad.

"Societas Draconistrarum," Vlad murmured so low Integra could barely hear.

The regent's head snapped up from his arm rest and he immediately stood. His eyes narrowed almost to slits. "You are part of the Order of the Dragon?"

Vlad grinned, "Only since I was initiated at five years of age."

There was a pause where Integra then glanced over at Lord Anderson. The advisor seemed utterly perturbed that his conversation had been truncated to oblivion. With his moment lost and now forgotten, there was no hope in later cornering the Lord into his thoughts. There had to be a way to expel the Ottomans from threatening Hungary, and the more that Vlad's conversation lengthened, the more he couldn't see its reasoning. There had to be another way than allying with this cretin.

"What's the Order of the Dragon?"

Integra jumped slightly but looked down at Matthias. "The Order of the Dragon was a monarchical chivalric order for selected nobility, created in Hungary. It was founded in 1408 by Sigismund, King of Hungary. The Order required its initiates to defend the Cross and fight the enemies of Christianity, in particular the Ottoman Turks," Integra's eyes widened. This man had pledged to fight Christendom, and yet he had been detained as a prisoner in his own enemy's home. What horrors had he burdened? What unspeakable sins had he witnessed?

Vlad seemed to notice hushed whispers and glanced at the far right of the room. Integra ceased talking when their eyes met. The depths of his eyes upon her almost sent chills down her spine. But then, Integra's jaw tightened and her frown deepened to disdain. She wasn't about to let this prisoner sway her emotions. He recognized this expression, all too well, and grinned in response. Integra scoffed at the malign grin…no, leer.

Pip jerked the prisoner forward, reminding Vlad of where he was. A low grumble escaped Vlad's lips as he murmured something inaudible. His dark eyes focused back on the Lord who was now rubbing the stubble of his beard. Vlad, sensing he needed more encouragement, began to speak once more.

"It has been my only desire since I was eleven to crush the Ottomans the first chance I had. I will take whatever position you place me in, gladly. I will wield my sword for Christianity's right to exist, I will order my men to stand behind me and follow. I will even sacrifice my own life, willingly, by your hand than rule a land under Ottoman law. But, what will kill is your intent," Vlad stated in a low voice, as if trying to seduce the regent-governor with Vlad's dedication and experience.

"Your Lordship," Lord Anderson spoke up, "If I may…"

The man sighed, but nodded.

"This man was still in Ottoman territory, learning their languages and logic, learning their reasoning and deceptive life. He was taught the Qur'an!" Anderson practically shouted, but then motioned the cross upon himself, whispering his apology. A bible was already clutched in between his arm and torso like a lifejacket in a maelstrom.

"My Lord, if I may," Vlad started the same way as Anderson. The Lord nodded. "If you use me not as a soldier in the fight to keep Christianity alive and breathing, then at least use me for tactical advantage precisely in the way that your advisor has specified."

"What do you mean?" the regent began his descent down the stairs of his throne. Ladislaus nervously looked at him, but any objection the son had was silenced quickly with a raise of the Lord's hand.

Vlad straightened in his lowered posture, revealing that he was taller than even Ladislaus. A grin threatened Vlad's face, but the prisoner was able to control it. "I mean use me for my vast knowledge of the mindset and inner workings of the Ottoman Empire as well as my hatred of the new sultan Mehmet II. I could be a tool in your plan to finally defeat the Ottomans that threaten your borders."

Anderson and Ladislaus both inhaled to speak when the regent held up two hands with a warning look.

"I believe…I've heard your piece. And it was well prepared," their leader then turned to Pip and the remaining four guards, still stationed loyally at the sides, "Now send him off to the dungeons, will you? We are done here."

Vlad's legs shot out from underneath him at those words. He fought and struggled to break free, growling and grunting, thrashing and ripping his arms out of Pip's. The other four guards rushed the floor and took a hold of Vlad, pinning his body to the cold stone floor. Vlad suppressed a roar of anger from erupting within his chest as he struggled once more and then gave up, letting the crushing weight of the guards deflate his lungs. One guard broke an ax off of the wall and headed toward him. The offense of struggling against a ruler's orders was death, and certainly within the Lord's presence, especially if one was once an enemy and now claims to be an ally. How he willed himself to die right then and there. But it wasn't death he found in those last moments; it wasn't an ax coming down on his neck. It was a voice of a young woman that penetrated and stalled Death from taking him; an angelic voice.

"Father, stop this for one moment," Integra demanded more than pled, "You cannot kill this man."

The regent turned to her with a stern look, clearly magnifying her gross act of misconduct in intervening. "And why can I not, for the sake of continuing this little farce?"

She glanced at Ladislaus's furious expression and at Lord Anderson's aloof expression. She then turned her gaze down to rest on a broken man with a broken spirit. He looked so pitiful to her, so mangled and mutilated from the years of his torture. She could see it on him, in scars, and in him through his eyes. They had the look of betrayal set in them, engraved in them; and he would have his vengeance.

"All this man has seen is his life wasted, his talent and knowledge wasted, his ideals crushed underneath him, and his family used by the very people they sought to annihilate. Your father's best friend created the Order of the Dragon, my Lord. And to this day, it looks as though Vlad has kept true and loyal to Christianity."

"Yes, it _looks_ that way," the advisor muttered.

"Lord Anderson, you said so yourself earlier that men for our army are hard to come by. There are fewer and fewer ready for battle, and we cannot waste any more bodies since more men are dying than are being replaced. You said this," Integra reminded him.

Anderson frowned, disturbed that she had both been listening and was using his words against him, "Yes, I did say that."

"Then would you call it reasonable to reconsider the sentence? " she turned to her father, "Would you call it reasonable to use this," Integra glanced at Vlad's tattered and beaten body, "this gift…as a means to conquer the Ottomans once and for all? They would never see this strategy coming. I'm sure they never realized how strongly built the King of Hungary made the Order of the Dragon, and how imprinted its initiates are, such as Sir Vlad here."

The regent sighed once more and brought his hand to his chin, in deep thought. Ladislaus, Seras, Matthias, Anderson, Pip, and Integra waited with baited breath for the verdict. Integra had done all she could to save this fallen soul, though she feared it didn't suffice. Then, to her hope and to Vlad's, a brighter expression lit the Lord's face as he turned to Vlad and dropped his hand.

"Take him to the dungeons," he repeated, and saw Vlad's eyes close as they began to accept defeat, "But…do not kill him. I will think on this predicament for tonight," the regent turned away and listened to a new argument Lord Anderson began to whisper.

Integra felt her mouth curl into a smile at those words. She had defeated, Ladislaus, Lord Anderson, and her father. Mentally patting herself on the back, she noticed Vlad look at her quizzically with a grin plastered to his face. His smile seemed to hide within it all of his maliciousness and mischievous intentions. Part of Integra wished to know, and part of her loathed to understand what it was that clicked in that deviant mind of his. Had she even done the right thing in saving this man?

Pip grunted as he hoisted Vlad up to his feet and then started to drag him out of the room. The guard gave one confused and angered glance Integra's way but abruptly turned to hold Vlad upright. The guards, without any objection the whole time, closed the heavy doors behind them and exited. Suddenly, the room felt empty, lifeless, as if Vlad's presence had sucked the life out of the energy of the room and its inhabitants. Integra stared at the door for one more moment, and then began herding her younger siblings back to the castle stairs and to their rooms, ignoring Ladislaus's looks of disapproval. She knew she would hear his words, whether or not she wished for them. However, eventually, he would have to realize that she was a growing young woman with a capability to crush opponents in battles not of the flesh, but of words, debate, and rhetoric.

.•*´¨`*•.

There's the next chapter for you! I think it fit nicely, and my reviewers will certainly tell me how it went.

I know Vlad isn't a vampire…yet…but he can manifest those characteristics and qualities early on as a badass ruler…right? :D


	4. Clarification

**A/N:** Just what will happen to Vlad? What about Integra and Seras? Ladislaus and Matthias? And what of the war? MMM, yummy character development!

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Clarification

Integra and Seras both woke up the next morning groggily. Each rubbed their eyes and stumbled out of their separate beds half-awake, their hair a tangled mess of curls. Fortunately, Walter was already at the door with a tray of breakfast waiting. Integra did the honors of opening the door to her servant, and upon the action, he could almost not stifle a laugh at their appearance.

"Is that really necessary?" Integra frowned, in no mood to joke at what she looked like.

"No, my Lady," Walter cleared his throat, and a serious face returned all too quickly. He walked in and set the tray of food down on one of the many tables peppered throughout the vast room. The girls returned to their beds with the trays in their hands and plopped down onto fluffed pillows.

"Walter, how was last night?" Integra began to eat her morning vegetables.

He sat down in one of the chairs next to Integra's bed and cocked his head slightly to one side. "Well, considering the fact that I worked the whole day in the kitchen, helped prepare almost every single meal that ended up on the center table, and then watched the party crash with still a sweet desert awaiting…I'd say that Karma finally caught up with me."

Seras giggled and chewed on another piece of bread, "What about the clean up? Integra made us leave early," she shot her older sister an angry glance.

"I had to. It was already way past evening and we had to head off for our bed chambers. It was bad enough that you had to watch-" Integra stopped herself, but not fast enough.

Walter raised his chin up and smiled, "I see. So then, these questions would have no doubt led to the prisoner…"

Integra made a face, "Undoubtedly. How could I have rest knowing that someone in this Kingdom from the Order was beheaded by our own father, practically son of the Order's creator? I had to defend his right to live."

"Of course," Walter continued to smile politely, though something in it made Integra frown.

"And what of Pip?" Seras interrupted, "Does no one care for a man who was following the law loyally? Are we all going to simply care for the prisoners who convert to Christianity?"

Walter let his eyebrows raise considerably at her sharp tone. "Beg pardon?"

"Seras," Integra stood up to brush her hair out, "Our prisoner never had to convert to Christianity; he was already a Christian. The man was never an Ottoman. He's a part of the Order of the Dragon, but clearly you don't understand what that fully means."

"Then would you mind clearing it up?" she asked, finishing off her bread.

"Their mission is to destroy the Ottomans, down to the very last man. And I doubt, since they took him away from his family, that he would consider going back," Integra stated, but with little conviction. Even hearing herself defend the roguish man didn't seem to hold much weight on its own. No, she needed proof.

Walter cleared his throat, "If I may…"

"You may always speak, Walter," Integra hid a smile.

"Though Sir Vlad might seem trustworthy and devoted to the Order, I believe there is something you should know for further reference."

Both girls stopped their actions and turned fully around to see their servant. His tone suggested that what was about to come could be a tidal wave of knowledge.

"Sir Vlad's father…" Walter stopped and reconsidered his opening words, "In 1442, an army in league with Hungary drove out Sir Vlad III's father, Lord Vlad II, from Wallachia. The only reason why Lord Vlad II gained Ottoman support was because of this raid, and because of Lord Vlad II's hatred of Lord John Hunyadi, your father. The Ottomans entrusted Lord Vlad II of their support to him, but they also forced Lord Vlad II to give to their Sultan his sons, Sir Vlad III and Sir Radu, as insurance that he would stay loyal to the Ottomans."

"So that is the full story," Seras gasped, making her way to Integra's bed.

Integra took in a deep breath and scooted over to give her sister room, "So then, to Sir Vlad, our prisoner, Hungary is the reason why he was taken hostage. Hungary is the reason for all of his family's pain and suffering. Hungary is the reason why he is who he is now."

"Precisely," Walter nodded, "That is why I wish for you two to stay as far away from him as possible. Do not let him know of your presence, do you understand?"

Integra's heart skipped a beat as she glanced at Seras. She shook her head violently as her younger sister cleared her throat to speak: it was too late.

"Walter, I think that will be a little difficult now since Integra is the reason why Sir Vlad is alive," Seras paused, realizing that she had betrayed her sister.

"Seras—" Integra started.

"What?" he whispered, his darkening eyes on her within an instant.

"I…I may have convinced my father to reconsider Sir Vlad's death sentence…" the elder sister stared at the ground.

"Integra," Walter's voice was so deep it resembled a growl, "Do you know _who_ that man is?"

"Do you?" Integra asked, lifting up her head.

Walter swallowed, his jaw tightening. "Yes."

"Care to be more specific?" her voice mirrored sarcastic curiosity. She didn't appreciate her servant's tone with her nor did she enjoy the fact that he seemed about to verbally attack her judgment.

"I…" Walter swallowed again, but then sorrow seemed to blanket his gray eyes, "Because I was there. I was in the army that raided and drove out Lord Vlad II; I saw it all, and heard it all at the dear age of fifteen and a half."

"WHAT?" Seras squeaked, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"And thus, the truth is revealed," Integra smiled triumphantly.

"Integra, my Lady, this is not some debate; this is a man most dangerous to your safety, as well as your family's safety. There is no knowing what goes on in that man's mind. If you believe that you are a mystery with your clever wit and glib tongue, then he is the enigma of all mysteries," Walter clenched his fists slightly, but managed to place both hands underneath the tabletop.

"Sounds like you could learn from him," Seras whispered into Integra's ear.

"Or _die_ from him," Walter bowed his head until his chin rested upon his chest, "Promise me you won't go looking for him."

"Walter, I-"

"Promise me!" he yelled, looking up into her crystal blue eyes.

They looked so innocent to him, still so full of youth and ideas soon to be crushed. He knew of her potential, how she could manage a way out of any argument, even with her own father, and come out unscathed. She was brilliant -too brilliant. There were dangers she could not yet comprehend; evils in the world she had not yet witnessed; renegades she had not yet seen. He cared about her deeply, like a brother would a sister, and all he wanted -all he cared for- was for her to understand his logic; just once, without challenging him.

Integra jumped at his strong, demanding voice. He had never quite yelled at her like that before. "I promise, Walter."

Relief washed over his face as he picked up the trays and headed for the door. Silence followed him as he took one last glance at his two masters. His eyes apologized, with their downcast look when he reached for the doorknob. But then, he hesitated and turned back around.

"Lady Integra, Lady Seras, I will pray that he is on our side. But for now, we are all walking on eggshells with him."

.•*´¨`*•.

"Would you quit muttering to yourself?" Pip shouted. The prisoner was finally on his last nerve, and sadly, there were no drinks left. The other two guards had passed out from lack of sleep. Pip was beginning to feel sleep deprivation as well when he began to hear voices. Soon, he realized that it was just Vlad. Wait, that's right. It was 'Sir Vlad', or, even better, 'Lord Vlad'; fat chance anyone would call him the latter.

The muttering ceased, if only for one glorious moment. Then, it returned. Pip, rolling his eyes, stood up, grabbed his shield and sword, and turned the corner to face Vlad. The man was collapsed face first on the floor with his arms stretched out in an attempt to reach the bars of the dungeon. Pip was taken aback by Vlad's appearance, suddenly realizing that his needs, like food and water, had not been met the previous night.

The loyal guard remembered Vlad's tattered clothes and the fact that he could barely walk. His keen eyes and clever tongue displaced his weak disposition. Now, there was hardly anything left within that man, presently in a heap before Pip. He scratched his head, wondering if retrieving a pail of water was dutifully correct. Pip weighed his options: if he did bring water back, Vlad would survive, sadly. But if he didn't, then the regent-governor of Hungary would be furious that he didn't get to execute the man…or perhaps pardon the man. The Lord might even turn to Pip and execute him for letting Vlad die.

Pip took one last look at Vlad and set off for a pail. He woke up one of the guards for safety, in case this was all an act on Vlad's part. The guard then left the dungeon and walked outside, into the light. The sun instantly warmed his cheeks and his body as he smiled and stretched off the night, closing the door shut. The day was hardly cloudy and the castle's stone walls stood beautifully against the blue sky. He headed off to a nearby well and reached for a pail hanging on the side.

"Lord Ladislaus," Pip called from afar. The son turned around from his horse and waved across the courtyard. The young man walked over with his mount trailing behind. Pip smiled once more as Ladislaus stopped in front of the well, letting his horse sniff it with curiosity.

"Is there something you need, my friend?" the nobleman asked as the clanking of his armor filled the silence for a moment.

"I was wondering if your father was going to show up at the dungeon and declare his decision…" Pip trailed off while also nudging the horse away as he pumped up some water.

"Ah, _that_," Ladislaus's voice fell an octave, "I believe he was headed down there sometime today, though I don't know what his order will be. For this kingdom's sake, I hope that man is executed before nightfall."

"As do I," Pip lied. There was something about that man, something that Pip wanted to understand. He was extremely complicated, and there was only one way to learn from Vlad: let him live and teach Pip the art of fighting. Certainly if Vlad had journeyed this far, he knew what it took to survive as a soldier, and Pip longed to know how.

Ladislaus nodded and pulled his horse away from the well with a smile, "I am off to quell an uprising in one of the lower towns. Already, the Kingdom knows of Sir Vlad's return here. They are absolutely furious, some of them." The noble mounted his steed, shut his visor, and galloped off in a cloud of dust.

Pip coughed and swore at the animal's speed, covering the pail quickly from the dust as ten more soldiers galloped past to accompany the Lord. However, the guard successfully made it back to the stuffy dungeon and opened the door with his keys. It opened and closed swiftly and Pip shuffled back to Vlad's cell. He was still lying there, only the whispering had ceased. Pip unlocked the door and hit the bars with his boot. Vlad made no motion but did grumble at the cacophony.

"Ah, good. You're still alive," Pip set the pail down next to Vlad and moved back to lock the door.

"Barely," Vlad whispered, letting one arm curl around the pail and bring it to his head. He struggled to sit up, but managed by propping himself against the wall. He then brought the pail onto his lap and cupped his hands. Water sank into them and was just as quickly swallowed by a dehydrated prisoner. The cold texture sent shocks of life electrocuting within Vlad as his face then dove into the pail and drank.

Pip smiled and sat back down around the corner, letting his eyes fall back down slightly. He started to hear Vlad whisper once more; and this time, Pip grinned.

.•*´¨`*•.

"And Ladislaus is away crushing a mini uprising in Bagamér," Lord Anderson finished, glancing one last time at his list.

"That boy wishes to save the world of its treachery," the regent shook his head. "Is there anything else?"

Lord Anderson nodded, "There is the separate matter of dealing with a certain prisoner you have yet to execute."

The regent laughed, "Yes, I suppose there is. But I've thought about this predicament, and it could change in my favor. Perhaps I give him a means to conquering more land. Maybe I'll give him a small amount of men and see how he fights within my borders."

"My Lord, what do you mean?" the advisor asked.

"You told me that Ladislaus is off crushing an uprising against Sir Vlad. What if we send Sir Vlad off to stop more uprisings so that we can focus our troops on the Ottomans?"

Anderson scrunched his face. "I don't know, your Lordship…The thought of having him run about in our country makes my stomach turn. Besides, who's to say that he won't kill everyone who opposes him? We may as well write those villagers death sentences."

"It makes my stomach turn as well. But I don't believe I should execute my most valuable asset to killing the Ottomans just yet, Alexander."

"Then let him rot in his cell, my Lord. He need not step one foot outside of it for the rest of his life," Anderson moved forward to open another window.

The regent suddenly grinned, "Now _there's_ an idea." But then, his grin fell as fast as it had come. "No, no that would not work. Eventually, Sir Vlad would stop telling us what we needed. Then we would have to execute him, and if we didn't our relationship with Sir Vlad would have soured so much that he might tell us wrong information to harm our soldiers."

Anderson chuckled, "Then just kill him now and get this over and done with. If he's going to be more trouble than his life is worth, then why let him continue to live?"

"Exactly for the point you made yesterday at the party," the governor sighed and sat down in a chair. The room had brightened considerably as the windows let rays of sunshine cast through.

Anderson turned to face the regent-governor again and saw an old soul. He sat down with rumpled clothes too rich to bear an old man's weight. The Lord looked pale, almost ill from years of running with the politics of war and country. His eyes had faded to a blue-gray, still sharp, but they had lost their edge years ago to older age. Even though the man was in his mid forties, white hairs threatened his scalp in the corners of his face. His mustache and beard were already graying as well. Lord Anderson, his royal advisor, blinked at the old man now so easily consumed by one prisoner. And suddenly, it hit him: the Lord was getting too old for his job, and too weak.

"Exactly for the point that Integra used against you yesterday in defending Sir Vlad's life: my disintegrating soldiers," he continued.

"That girl does not know when she's playing with fire," Anderson muttered.

"Integra follows her gut instinct, when all other diplomacy fails," the regent defended lightly. "But that is beside this point. The Ottomans are stronger than ever now, and we need a strategy. Sir Vlad could be that strategy."

Anderson scoffed softly and folded his arms, "Surely you aren't thinking of entrusting Sir Vlad with the lives of your men. He is fickle, a renegade, a rogue, if not still allied with the Ottomans."

The Lord threw his hands up in despair, "So what am I to do then, Alexander? I am damned if I do execute him and I am damned if I don't."

The royal advisor was silenced into thinking once more. He desperately tried to think up a plan, anything that meant avoiding Vlad's involvement. Unfortunately, nothing came to mind and he stood there watching his own ruler thinking the same problems. Both men looked at the other and smiled at their minds' failures.

"I suppose you could wring him dry of all the information you need, and then kill him," Anderson tried, his brain already hurting.

"No," the Lord objected, "The minute I ask for something, he will want something in return before he even tells me what I need."

"The one thing you can use to your advantage is the fact that you both want the Sultan to die. If you can figure a way to use that to propel him forward in cooperating, then you've won the game before it's even started," Anderson tried again. This time, the Lord's face lit up into a bright grin.

"I believe you are very correct, Alexander," he rubbed his hands together, "Then perhaps if we lay down some bait…"

Anderson smiled, "Just what are you thinking, my Lord?"

.•*´¨`*•.

Integra and Seras walked together across the courtyard in flowing dresses that were both a beautiful peach color. They ruffled gently in the breeze as did their blonde hair. Like twins, the girls were almost the same height and almost the same body type, though Integra had always been skinnier than Seras. They seemed to be going for an afternoon stroll when Integra paused at the sight of a hidden door covered in vines.

The elder sister saw Walter tending to the needs of the barn animals such as the cows and sheep across the yard. Both girls looked to their sides and then lightly brushed aside the greenery, pushing the door open and entering. Integra almost gasped at the wonderful sight; it was a huge target practice range for archers and for swordsmen. It must have been used for training sites and for knights before battles. There were dummies made of hay bales clothed with ragged shirts and there were bulls eye clothes that were peppered with holes in them.

"Integra look as this!" Seras gasped and picked up a bow.

Something shiny caught Integra's eye as she looked down to the ground: a sword. Someone must have left it sticking up out of the ground. She glanced around and took a step toward it, lifting it up gently and examining the silver blade from every angle.

"It's beautiful," she picked it up from the hilt and grasped it with her right hand. Her mouth lifted into a smile and felt herself gravitate toward one of the hay bales.

"Woohoo!" Seras aimed her bow with an arrow and fired at a target. The shot ran right through one of the hay bales in the head; it toppled over into a mound of straw.

Integra's mouth dropped, turning around to face her sister, "Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

Seras giggled, "From you. I saw Walter teaching you how so I guess I just picked it up."

"But I had much more difficulty at archery. It took me weeks to hit a hay bale, much less through the head," Integra turned to another one, looking down at her own weapon. "I was always far better at sword fighting." She saluted the dummy and shouted, "On Guard!" slicing it this way and that. She practiced her footwork, making sure that she didn't stumble in her gracefulness. The clothes easily tore off of the hay and straw flew in patches across the yard. Seras watched in awe as her sister tore up another dummy on the target range.

"Wow, you look like a professional," Seras shook her head in disbelief.

To finish the bale off, Integra sliced its head off in one graceful motion, grinning the whole time. "Thank you. It took years for me to look this good."

Both girls paused, looking the target range over with anticipated delight. They started to imagine this place as their secret hide-out to practice and improve their skills. Integra always wanted to become a knight, though the law dictated women couldn't. The same could be said for Seras, but she wished to be an archer. Wherever Integra ventured, Seras wished to follow. The girls longed for adventure, for a journey away from the Hungarian castle, almost like a caged bird. Integra felt that Vlad might be able to offer them an adventure. After all, he needed their help and they needed his. Integra would be prepared to go off and assist Vlad in reclaiming his honor, knowing she was not frightened by him. She knew one thing about caged birds: they needed wings.

"Integra! What are you doing?" Walter ran to her in shock, "I thought I told you not to practice in public!"

She smiled, "Sorry, I found this secret door covered in ivy so I thought I'd investigate."

Walter smirked, "Well, no door goes unopened without you knowing about it. I swear, _nothing_ can pass that mind of yours." But then he noticed Seras in the distance and his face soured once more. "What is your sister doing?"

Integra raised her chin proudly, "She's practicing the art of archery."

Walter saw Seras hit another target square in the chest. His jaw dropped.

"Mine did too," Integra laughed, "She's the best I've ever seen."

Walter blinked and turned back around to Integra, "Why I…There's…What did…How come…"

"She's a natural," Integra chuckled, sticking her sword's blade in the ground.

Walter nodded but pointed, "This is why you cannot go around blithely shooting and slaying things. You both are too good to be seen, and though I may be _very good_ at controlling rumors, if someone actually sees you two practicing out here, I cannot deny it. And what's worse, it will come back and bite me since I am the only one who could _possibly_ be forced into teaching you archery and swordsmanship."

"Walter," Integra covered his mouth, "Calm down, no one can see us from this angle. The only building that is closest to us is that one," she pointed to a rundown building with chips in the sides of its walls. The roof almost looked as if it would cave in at any moment and kill anyone alive in there.

"And that would be the dungeon," Walter answered, suddenly catching himself. "Another reason why you must leave!" he threw up his hands and began to escort Seras and Integra out of the range.

"Ah, I see. So _that_ is where they are keeping the prisoner," Seras gasped. Her older sister smiled.

"My Ladies," Walter began in a forced soothing voice, "_There_ is the door," he pointed to the ivy covered portal and waved goodbye, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to clean up this mess before anyone comes looking around at the damage."

Integra and Seras let themselves out and slammed the door shut. They paused around the back corner and smiled to the other. One thing was certain: they would be back again to practice some more, and when they did, perhaps they would be able to see Sir Vlad. Seras was more excited to see the man than Integra was; but a certain quality about the prisoner had her completely vexed: his mind. She needed to know how to control him, especially for her father's use and for her country's use. Somehow, she knew he could help, though she knew not yet how.

.•*´¨`*•.

Starting to see the Hellsing resemblance? Hahahaha That last paragraph that I wrote made me go "ooohhhhhhhhh…(smack) DUH!" :)

~One last thing: I'm leaving for vacation soon, so this may be my last chapter for a while. I will be gone for a month, but will be back in July! I know this story is in its early stages, but don't give up hope! I've only JUST begun with this one (muhaha)~

**to Rosegurl1:**I'm so elated I finally found another who enjoys history as much as I do! :D Thank you for taking the time to write a long review! It always boosts the writer's confidence. I'm glad you think they're in character. I tried to make them similar, but have room for more growth. After all, everyone right now is so young. Seras is like 15, Integra 17, and Vlad like 20. Walter is like 25-27. In the years to come, they will grow and learn. I hope you continue to like the story, and feel free to keep commenting on it :)

**to Soul93:** It was tricky to keep them almost the same, and then add different elements to the story. Such as a different time setting (the 1400s) I can't wait for the chapters to come, and I hope you enjoy Vlad's appearance in this chapter.

**to eyes of sin:** Hahahaha! My weakness are bloddy romances too. But they have to be done tastefully, for me, otherwise my stomach groans :) I absolutely love writing war stories and war romances. That's what this story is going to be about: Vlad and Isana learning from one another and growing to accept friendship...and possibly more than that XP

**to Yogo Hakamadare:** Hey thanks! Hope you liked Vlad's theatrical appearance too.


	5. Reconciliation

**A/N:** Ok the next chapter awaits for reading. It's more from Vlad's side, instead of Integra's. I like to switch it up a little, and I've been neglecting poor Vlad.

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Reconciliation

Pip took the hilt of his sword and struck it across the face of Vlad. The prisoner woke up with swinging fists at a target he didn't even register yet. But both punches were dodged quite easily, and he was pinned down just as quickly. Pip let out a satisfying grunt as he sat on top of Vlad with a smile on his face. The prisoner groaned in pain at the weight of the man and the armor, but didn't struggle.

"So you're finally up. And throwing punches too," Pip grinned as he roughly slapped Vlad on the shoulder.

Vlad flinched, but grinned, "A well trained soldier knows no less."

Pip's smile faded and he stood up, letting Vlad inhale a full breath of air before informing him of anything. Pip shut the barred door in Vlad's face abruptly and made sure he wasn't followed. Watching the weak prisoner disgusted Pip, especially since his ruler wished to reconcile with Vlad. The thought of Hungarian nobility kneeling in help for an Ottoman made his stomach twist into a knot, not to mention the fact that he didn't like Vlad's attitude either. The gold-coated voice of an angel to get what he desired and the strength of a horse to will what he wished for branded Vlad a dangerous man in Pip's eyes.

"Well, now that you're standing, I'll inform you that the ruler of Hungary wishes to speak with you," the guard answered.

Vlad's eyebrow rose in intrigue, "Really." It was not a question, as if he knew the outcome.

"Don't get your hopes up, Ottoman. I wouldn't think he'd be as forgiving as he was last night," Pip warned, already agitated and feeling as if he were helping prolong the prisoner's death himself.

"Yes, at the hands of one of his court. Tell me, who was the girl that saved me?" Vlad asked, stepping closer to the bars.

Pip quickly moved in as well to challenge, "She should not concern you, prisoner. You won't be released from these bars so don't get any ideas."

Vlad backed off and turned around to look less abrasive. That matter could be solved later. He wanted more information about the Lord and his intentions at that moment.

"Of course," Vlad answered, "Send the Lord my regards, but fear I won't, as you say, make it out of the dungeon to speak with him."

"Nonsense, idiot," Pip scoffed, "The regent-governor is coming to talk with you right now in the dungeon. And I hope that, for his sake, he has an attack of conscience."

Vlad smiled; it must certainly be a bigger deal than he originally thought, because the _ruler_ was coming to _him_.

"Now if you try anything, and I mean _anything_, your head will be on a pike before the hour is up," Pip threatened, and to add affect he took out his sword and jutted it up in the sky.

"Wouldn't dream of it," the prisoner shook his head and watched Pip turn around, signifying the end of their short conversation. As the guard's back was turned, Vlad grinned.

.•*´¨`*•.

"Seriously, my Lord, you should reconsider this problem. Shorten his sentence, release him back to the Ottomans, _something_!" Walter begged.

"My dear servant, I told you. His information is too valuable to waste. We have a common enemy: the Ottomans," the regent continued as Walter inhaled, "And if not that, then we are definitely both hungry for more territory, and he has the tactics to achieve this within our grasp."

"Your Lordship, this man has been raised under the Qur'an, he is one of their highest ranking soldiers, and his brother is the newly dubbed and honored Radu, or as they call him, 'Radu Bey'," Walter pointed out.

The Lord sighed and turned to completely face the servant, "Walter, I will let you know when I've changed my mind. You will be one of the first to know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a prisoner to speak with," he turned back around and pushed the double doors open.

Walter bowed his head in submission and held his tongue. He recognized when the regent had reached his limit and retracted himself back to his duties. His first mission: making sure that the two girls had not wandered far from their bed chambers.

Lord Anderson passed the servant and caught up with the regent, but not before sharing a sympathetic look with Walter. The Royal Advisor walked loyally next to his superior as they made their way down stone corridors and through more massive doors. Every step he took made him closer to a traitor in Anderson's eyes. But the faithful man stood close to his ruler; doubting his ruler at a time when Ottomans were strengthening themselves was not acceptable.

"Pray that this ends well," the Lord turned to Anderson.

The Royal Advisor smiled; and though it was forced, the action brought a sliver of hope into his heart. The two men then opened up the last double doors and into the sunlight, the dungeon just a corner away.

"My Lord, promise me that if this does not end well, you will take the prisoner's life. We cannot trust him to be set free, and he cannot go back to his empire or they will know how to get here undetected as he did," Anderson stated with full force.

The man nodded, "I agree. This will either work or it won't. If it does not, he will not be spared."

A moment passed where both walked along the stone pathway and to the last set of doors before the dungeon. Anderson and the Lord exchanged glances and took a breath. Then, the advisor opened the doors and stepped inside.

Filth followed with rats and birds picking the leftovers from the nearest body in its cell. The regent had inherited through the king Devine Right and Absolute Power to never let people admitted into the dungeon out. Most of the time, he never bothered to hear their deceitful stories and let them ultimately rot in their cell until nothing was left but bones. However, there were exceptions to this, and this 'Sir Vlad' was one.

Pip stood up and knelt as he saw the ruler arrive with his advisor. The regent nodded and walked straight up to the bars of the cell. Vlad was sitting down and made no motion to stand and bow to his superior. Anderson's blood began to boil the longer Vlad stayed sitting, and it almost reached a tipping point as the prisoner dared to smile mockingly.

"You do not recognize your ruler when he stands in front of you?" Anderson raised his voice dangerously.

"I do not believe I obtain one who will have me," Vlad answered, but did not take his eyes off of the Lord.

"Indeed, I heard you were quite the rebel. They had to use physical force to put you into submission," the governor smiled, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"I am, first and foremost, a soldier. But it takes more than just orders to conquer a man's devotion," Vlad replied, still sitting.

"_Faith_, I know. But I do not think you have faith in your religion anymore. Is that true?"

Vlad chuckled, "In Islam. How could I, after what I've seen them do? And yet, sometimes I wonder if you were ever any different."

Anderson growled and took a step closer, "What does that mean, boy? Christianity isn't ruled by savages, it is by the will, faith, and love of our Savior, Jesus Christ and God!"

Vlad finally separated his gaze from the Lord and looked the Royal Advisor over, "And the rulers who, I suppose, represent God through their Devine Right can be corrupt in their judgments as well."

"What do you mean?" the ruler asked, equally agitated.

The prisoner finally stood, causing a number of silent guards to place their hands on their swords. Vlad closed in until he finally weaved his fingers through the bars of his cage, staring into the eyes of the regent.

"You would know, my Lord. November, 1447, Wallachia; an attack on her was made by you in league with the King of Hungary. Radu and I were fortunately not there, but my brother Mircea was not so fortunate. I heard, years later, that he was blinded with a red hot poker before being buried alive, and a short time after my father was captured and killed by the forces of John Hunyadi, the man who stands before my eyes now," Vlad stated, not once blinking.

The Lord's face grew red with anger, "They and you were in league with the Ottoman Empire, and if you were a part of the Order, you would go after what threatens it. Your family was a threat, your father promised his loyalty to Islam. As insurance that this was the truth, he sent you and your younger brother to Edirne. He betrayed his faith in God, and in his family!"

"All because _you _and the King, years before, refused to assist him _against_ the Ottomans!" Vlad's voice rose as well, "We fought their forces with all of the numbers we could spare, but it was not enough, not _nearly_ enough. My father asked for your help and the King's help, begged for it! And each time, he was sent back to Târgoviște; each time he was humiliated by his faith, by the King he was trying to love and follow. You shunned him, you shunned us in our hour of need, and because of that you see me today: a broken man with broken faith!"

The room fell silent. Only rats scurrying to their holes made sounds within the pause. Anderson felt his body tense, but not in anger; in sorrow. The raging fire in Vlad's eyes flickered, ever fed by the presence of the Lord in the dungeon. The Royal Advisor glanced at his ruler and was shocked to see no expression on his face. But Vlad suddenly laughed raucously. The throaty laugh caused Anderson to flinch, wondering if the prisoner had finally gone mad with rage and hate. That was all that was left in this man, Anderson could tell. And the worst kind of anger that was fueled by hate and rage was none other than vengeance.

"So, you're wondering if I am loyal to this Crown," Vlad paused and grinned, "As you can see, I am forced to pick the lesser of two evils in my heart. One: the betrayal Christianity has shown me. Two: the horrors and abuse Islam taught me."

"Son," the ruler murmured.

"A great decision, indeed," Vlad continued, "But I think I've made my choice."

"Son!" the regent shouted, "Believe me, it was not my wish to kill your father, nor did happiness follow when he died. But he was a traitor to his faith. He could have chosen to die with honor, he could have led his men one last time into battle, he could have died a hero. But he chose to deal with the Devil, and he paid dearly for that."

"As did his innocent, young, children," Vlad's voice added, black with acid that seemed to dry up his words.

The regent paused again and nodded, "As did his innocent, young, children. And for that, I truly am...sorry."

Pip's eyes widened and so did Anderson's. Both had never heard the Lord openly apologize, to a stranger, a prisoner, an Ottoman no less. The act did not seem compatible with the scene at all, and Pip choked until he coughed, not for a minute believing what he saw. But the ruler raised his hand before objections were made and profanities thrown. The room fell silent once more, and the governor stepped closer to the bars.

"My decision," Vlad stated, "Is to choose the Order of the Dragon. I have always tried to fight loyally for it. Ask the Ottomans who stood in my way to come here. All of their lives were taken in the name of the Order. I will always stand by it, and since its inherited ruler stands before me now, I choose to ally myself with Hungary and her people."

The regent-governor let out a small sigh and nodded, "I accept the reconciliation. You will be a soldier under my command now, and I expect you to follow orders obediently and swiftly. If you falter, or refuse once, I will have our head. You will also tell us tactics and tell us exactly how the Ottomans fight, how to fight back, and how to defeat their armies. Show us their weak spots, prove your knowledge, and I will guarantee your life will be spared. Is that understood?"

Vlad grinned and knelt, "Yes, my Lordship."

The ruler smiled, "Then, Pip, grab this man some food to eat and water."

Pip's mouth dropped but managed to unglue his feet from the filthy ground and somehow made his way out of the dungeon.

The Lord turned to other guards, "Release this man. See to it that he is stationed with the other soldiers in their tents and get him a sword and shield with a helmet."

"My Lord," Anderson stated, "What of the plan we discussed?"

"Ah, the bait?" the regent whispered, "Yes, all in good time. He will fall for it. He will follow my command because the offer I will give him he won't refuse. It will seal our bond to one another. Fear not; this is all in good time, my advisor," the man reassured.

.•*´¨`*•.

Next chapter will see Vlad in his uniform and dealing with his own soldiers  
>Who knows, maybe a Lordss will be involved too.<p> 


	6. Injuries and Charms

**A/N:** I'm loving Alucard's past more and more. Loved that last chapter. It was fun to get a yelling match going between the regent-governor and Vlad. Of course, Vlad won. He had to, because not only does he live, he does become the Lord of Wallachia :3

Next chapter, please R&R :)

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Injuries and Charms

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Integra was allowed to step foot off of the castle grounds. She was forbidden to leave the castle, then forbidden to leave the west wing, then forbidden to leave the hallway, and then forbidden to leave her room, aside from going into her special washroom. The governor, her father, had become completely obsessed with controlling his new pet: Vlad, and was determined to make sure that he couldn't even put a toe out of line. So far, so good. His soldier-servant had complied with every order, first in dealing with outside quarreling villages, and then slowly to outside breaches in his borders by the Ottomans. With every success report, the regent-governor grew more and more drawn to the possibility of using Vlad.

Integra knew, as of right now, that Vlad was still being tested; and as far as she knew Vlad didn't mind being tested. His loyalty was not in question for himself, so why should he care if others felt that he was traitorous? It would only take time to show them that they were wrong, and Vlad had all the time he needed. He was patient, calculating, and always prepared with a quick remark that saved him. That, above all else, was why Integra didn't want her father thinking up ways to use him. She didn't even trust her father's judgment in using his new powerful tool, even if it was to destroy the Ottomans that threatened Hungary's borders every day.

Integra wanted to call the shots herself. She was skeptical that anyone else could handle it, but she knew that anyone she talked to, even Walter, would laugh at the thought of a woman controlling Vlad.

Perhaps that was why Integra thought it might work. An equal balance of cunning deception and unforgiving bloodshed. Integra knew she could provide both of those freely, if, that is, she were in a position of power.

Integra sighed as she rested her head on her fluffy pillow, drowning out the last bits of Seras's complaints of being cooped up. Integra would wait, she would be patient. She knew that there would have to be a way to turn the tables in her favor. Like Vlad, she had a sharp tongue of her own, and, like Vlad, she had all the time in the world to prove them wrong, that she could rule.

"Integra, I'm talking to you," Seras waved a hand in front of her older sister's blank face. It animated immediately into an expression of annoyance.

"Isn't there something that you could do that would not require talking?" Integra batted Seras's hand away and rolled over on her mattress.

Seras considered her comment for a moment, "I could stare off into space and day-dream about sneaking out of the castle, like what you're doing."

Integra laughed. Her sister was wrong, but it was a good guess. Any rambunctious 14-year-old girl's mind should be centered on thinking only one step ahead.

"I was hoping more that you could braid your hair, try on a few dresses, or sketch something outside. You're wonderful at drawing," Integra pointed out.

Seras smiled, "I know…fine. What would you like me to draw?" she asked, reaching for a quill and an inkpot.

Integra scanned the room and nodded with her head, "Why don't you draw that dress hanging from your closet?"

Seras shook her head, "No, that's too boring. Try something that is not inanimate."

Integra exhaled in exasperation and glanced at her window. "Ok," she grumbled and managed to pick herself up off of her comfortable bed and dragged herself to the beautiful archway of her window that had a certain gothic style to it.

"Like a tree, the Zlasti River, at least something that moves outside in the wind," Seras began to make her way over to the window with a small stool.

Integra focused her eyes outside and scanned the river, perusing its shimmering water in the sunlight until her eyes fell upon the tents of soldiers lining up. She looked them over, wondering which dressed man was Sir Vlad, wondering if his latest mission to crush an infested village on Hungary's border had turned successful as well. She watched each man crawl out of their tents, but her attention was completely swept up when the sound of a soldier with a trumpet flared in the wind. Someone very important was arriving.

The elder hushed her little sister as she gripped the stone frame of her window and stuck her head entirely out. Horses and men bearing the flag of Hungary were entering the castle grounds, its soldiers hollering and waving with their fists in the air. Integra saw the faces, she knew exactly what this was: a victory. She strained her eyes as the last horse came limping in with an injured rider. His helmet was off, and she immediately recognized his black hair and pale skin. Two soldiers on either side were holding up the horse's reins from it falling over. Integra covered her mouth as she saw blood seeping from both the rider and the steed. She whirled around to face Seras before she even had a line to say.

"What, what is it?" Seras grabbed her sister's hands.

Integra's mouth opened but nothing came out. Instead, she rushed for the door and slammed her body's weight into it, already knowing it was locked.

"Damnation!" she cursed.

"Integra, what is going on?" Seras's voice rose to almost a squeak.

The elder sister turned back around, "If I know anything about horses, it's that the stable headmaster will shoot the injured horse before it even has a chance to recover. I won't let that happen. I recognize that horse. I helped to train it when it was only a colt, and I will not let that horse's talent go to waste!"

"Who is it?" Seras gasped, already knowing the answer.

"It is Hadúr!" Integra kicked the door. Locked. She threw Seras's stool at it and then slammed herself into it.

Locked.

"Which careless rider was atop that mount?" Seras seethed, remembering the entire summer that Integra had spent with the baby, training him into the magnificent animal he was -her pride and joy.

Integra looked back at her, "Sir Vlad…" she stated almost apologetically and turned back around to hit the door again.

"Integra, why don't you do something a little more practical?" Seras stated.

Integra thought for a moment and an idea came to her. She rushed for a candelabra and broke off the skinny arms. She took the sharp broken part and made her way to the door. Taking the arm of it and stabbing in through the keyhole and wrenching in from side to side, she tried to unlock the door from her prison. Seras tried it herself, but the door wouldn't open. Both sisters decided that they would each grab one broken arm and push it through the keyhole and try to yank the door free. Integra inserted the broken arm into the hole, as did Seras, and they worked at trying to pull the latch off. Integra was about to give up when she heard a metallic click and the door flew open. Air rushed in from the other side and both girls were flung backward and into the floor with a thud.

"Well, that was fun..." Seras stood up first, brushing imaginary dust off of her dress and faced Integra, "What would you like me to do?"

Integra poked her head out of the door. Two guards were stationed at the end of the long hallway on the left, but the stairs she needed to run to were closer and to the right of the door. Integra waved Seras over and pointed to the guards, "Do you think you can distract them for me so that I can sneak by?"

Seras took one look at the guards and smiled, "That's all?" she grinned and ran down the left side of the pathway.

Guards shouted her name and began to chase her, but Seras was faster than their armored bodies and agilely turned corners, gripping their columns for support and momentum. Right as the two fools ran out of sight, Integra snuck out of the room and began stepping down the never-ending staircase.

Integra forgot about her sister, she forgot about the mandate set upon her not to leave her chamber, and she forgot how furious her father would be after hearing what happened. In that moment, running and sprinting at full speed down the stairs and through outside hallways, all she could think about was saving that horse's fate.

Hadúr was the first horse that had ever been presented to her as a gift from her father; but in the interests of appealing to the regent, she let him ultimately take the animal and train it to become a warhorse for battle. Hadúr soon became one of the best and always held a special place in Integra's heart. The fact that he was injured was irrelevant, and so was her future trust with her father. Waste was not acceptable. Her footfalls seemed to clatter like a horse's hooves, though she tried her best to not make too much noise. The spiraling steps eventually began to make her dizzy, but that was when she finally hit the bottom floor of the castle.

She poked her head out again from around a bend, and watched for more guards. None came within visual range, and Integra raced out of the stairwell and towards the soldiers.

"Halt, Lady Integra, what are you doing?" Pip appeared from around a different corner and chased after her.

Integra glanced back, completely baffled at the man's spontaneous appearance, and made it down the corridor's last stretch when Pip grabbed her from behind.

"Integra, by order of the regent-governor and ruler of these lands, I demand that you return to your chamber and remain there!" he shouted and crushed her with his grip.

He turned Integra around to find out that she was gulping back tears. Her eyes darkened in betrayal and anguish.

"So you're just like Sir Vlad then. A Lord's play-toy. A disposable tool without a name," Integra jerked away from him.

"Do not tell me I am useless," Pip growled, tightening his grip.

"If you were truly a soldier, like you said you one day hoped to be, out there with them," Integra nodded to the visible tents stretched outside whipping in the wind, "Then you would know when to make the right judgment call."

Pip scoffed, "What are you talking about?"

"That horse is _mine_. He was my first horse I ever had," she pointed to the limping black animal being tugged away, now rider-less, "And I swear to you if I don't get to him and save his life, I will personally make sure that you won't get in a word edgewise to my father that you've always wished to be a soldier."

Pip's eyes widened as they stared back at her icy orbs, "Integra…"

"Consider it a threat and a promise. Pip, guard of the castle, I order you to release me under penalty of stripping you of your title and your honor," Integra felt her arms fall to her sides and watched Pip stand back.

"What's gotten into you, Inte–"

"You shall call me by my rightful title: my Lady," Integra brushed her tangled hair out of the way, "Furthermore, to answer your question, being imprisoned in your own home creates a sort of horrible sickness inside, like betrayal and deception against you. That people have turned their backs on you and will let you rot in your room until you are driven into madness. I. Had. To. Get. Out," Integra raised her voice and slipped away into the sunlight outside.

.•*´¨`*•.

"Sir!" one soldier shouted, "Where are you wounded?"

Vlad spat out blood and revealed the bloodied cloth used previously on the battlefield in clogging up his abdomen. Fresh blood leaked out with every sharp and agonizingly painful breath he took.

"Just patch it up, I have important things to do," he grumbled and watched the soldier reach for a long bandage of cloth.

"Yeah, like what, destroy the rest of the Ottoman Empire with shredded insides?" the man joked.

Vlad smiled, "Gladly, if it comes to that."

The bandage was wrapped around his torso completely until no blood seeped through and was visible. The man then tore the middle of the cloth into two thick strands and looped one back to tie around and create a tight knot that would withstand bending and motion.

Within minutes, Vlad was standing and moving around, reaching for his armor and placing it over his chest. The soldier shook his head and blocked the exit of the tent with his arms held out in protest.

"You cannot leave yet, Sir. Your wounds need to heal. Mandatory bed rest for three days until this heals. We don't even know if it will get infected, and I need to be around for that if it does," the soldier pleaded.

Vlad turned his head and lowered his face into a frown, "What was that?"

"I…I said–"

"I know what you said. I'm just curious if you know which one of us is your superior," Vlad approached the man, looking down at him because of his tall stature.

The soldier seemed to shrink under Vlad's stare and began to move out of the way as his superior opened up the flap and stepped into the cold outside weather. He shivered for a moment and then put on his mahogany cape around his armor. His eyes scanned for his steed. Vlad had been yanked off of Hadúr before he could shout the order to not dispose of his horse. If Vlad had to personally mend Hadúr's wounds, then so be it.

In Edirne, Vlad and Radu were taught to always take care of their mount. A horse was well trained and cared for, because they claimed status, power, and strength for a man. An important man was placed on a horse in battle, a strong man, a ruler worth having a steed. Lowly soldiers didn't understand how important and how fast horses were. In battle, if one was strong with a sword, he would last long; but the man on a horse would overpower the man with only a sword easily.

Vlad couldn't take any chances in believing that the governor would supply him with another mount, so he began to look for Hadúr in the only place he knew where the animal would be.

.•*´¨`*•.

"Shh," Integra stroked Hadúr's mane. The horse nickered as she washed the rest of his wound away with a bucket of water, "I'm going to take care of you."

Integra gulped as she took the red hot iron off of the fire pit and blew on it, the tip bubbling. She looked Hadúr over one last time, the fact that he was tied to every wooden post in the crossties, and hoped that they would hold, and especially that his legs would not kick free of the ropes she used to tie them to the posts. She moved in and knelt to his front left cannon bone. She gripped the wound with one hand and pressed the iron to Hadúr's flesh. The horse threw its head and whinnied in pain. It was not her choice to hot-iron the horse, but it would cauterize the wound so it could start healing. Integra tried to sooth him with her voice, and he eventually stood still, numb to its pain, she guessed, because it overwhelmed him into dull agony.

Integra withdrew the iron quickly and wrapped his leg in as many bandages as she could find and hold in her arms. She looked up at the horse and realized that Hadúr was almost sleeping, exhausted from the day. She hastily untied him and led him from the crossties and into his stall for the night. Hadúr fell to the floor after he took three strides and lay there. Integra knelt and stroked his shiny black fur from his neck to his shoulder.

"You were such a good boy. I am going to find you mountains of carrots, apples, and sneak in sugar for you every day until your health returns," she cooed and smiled as she saw his eyes close. "You've got a long recovery ahead, Hadúr."

She heard a laugh from around the corner of his stall and stood up defiantly, preparing herself for an explanation. But someone familiar revealed himself in his wounded state, black hair and mocking smile in all. She smiled in return, though her heart was beginning to beat faster.

Vlad inhaled, looking her angelic face and blonde hair over, "So you are my savior, my liberator, my angel."

Integra laughed, "If I were an angel, I wouldn't bother staying in this castle."

"Mmm," Vlad nodded, "You are fearless of the outside world. It's a huge place full of…unimaginable dangers. If you don't fear that, then what do you fear?"

Integra lowered her gaze, knowing instantly the answer. "A cage." *

The warrior's eyes brightened, "Well now. I know something of cages, having lived in one until I was 18 years of age."

Integra locked eyes with him once more and moved out of the stall, "I saw that in you."

One corner of his mouth turned upward into a half-grin, "I hear you've been ordered to stay in your chambers by the regent-governor himself. Why, only few know."

"I wouldn't believe in idle gossip, if I were you," Integra answered, guarding what dignity she still had after his knowledge of the matter.

"Indeed," Vlad smiled and stepped closer, "But allow me to thank you, first and foremost. I owe you my life, my Lady."

"You owe me nothing, Sir," she shook her head, realizing that there was hardly any space behind her to step back as he did forward again.

"…If I may ask, what caused you to spare my life?" Vlad's eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Integra felt herself catch her breath. She had never truly considered her motives, but now that they were in question all she could think about was the raw pity she felt for him the night that they met. His hazel eyes softened as they searched hers, and a smile crept up his lips even further. Integra couldn't deny his handsome features, but there was something deadly about him. His charisma and outwardly flirtation masked a darker side of himself she wished not to see. But like a moth to a flame, her mind kept coming back to this enigma. She had to solve it and control it.

"The circumstances of the time deemed it logical to spare your life," Integra stated perfunctorily, brushing imaginary hay off of her dress.

The man's eyes lit up in a mockery to her word's lies. She suddenly felt exposed, as if her lie was being dissected by his ever-probing manner.

"What circumstances are we talking about?" he asked, placing a hand on the stall door and shifting his wait towards her.

Integra hesitated; putting too much power into his hands would make him win the argument, and she needed to gain back her dignity he had so brazenly stripped from her. She blinked. Why was he leaning into her? Why was he so inappropriately close? Wait, concentrate. What did he ask?

"Circumstances like the Ottoman Empire, the fact that you claim to hate the Sultan, that you are part of the Order of the Dragon, and that you are willing to help the Hungarian Empire in crushing the Turks. Upon these words, I knew your life was worth more than a death sentence," she replied.

"Something," he murmured, "Yes. Now we just need to know what it is worth."

"I believe you will prove to us how valuable you are…or are not," she watched his eyes snap to hers. He grinned, clearly accepting the challenge.

"Time will tell," he nodded and paused, "…I will take care of Hadúr, I can promise you that."

Integra looked the man over with a strict eye, "How can I be sure?"

Vlad put his hand over his heart, "You have my word, and thus my body and soul. He is the best horse I know to have as a mount. We were only allowed to have horses once we were officers in Edirne. For 17 years I saw important men have the privilege of stabling a horse. I know the value of them, my Lady."

Integra slowly smiled, "Perhaps you do understand. But that doesn't change the fact that you are injured," she nodded to open bandages she could see in between the joints of his armor.

Vlad scoffed, dismissing her comment, "Such are the occurrences of battle. Without the rush, without the risk, and without the possibility of defeat or reward, there is nothing in this world."

"Nothing?" Integra chained the stall closed and proceeded to walk down the wing. The smell of hay and leaves of trees refreshed her mind. The cobwebs of the castle melted away as Vlad walked with her.

"Nothing worth living for, as I was taught, and I was taught well. I only see war and conflict in this world that God gave us," he answered, trying his best not to favor his right side.

"Not even love?" she said ever so softly.

"_Love_," Vlad scoffed and paused, as if the word was not to be taken seriously at all; he then proceeded to walk forward, forgetting the gimp in his walk, "Love was stripped from me at the dear age of 10. Love is weak. Love got me nowhere. Love didn't save my brother, Mircea, or my mother. Love was useless against huge men with whips to punish, chains to hold down young boys, swords to slit the throats of Christian men and women, and incorrigible appetites for gory conflict. What does love have to offer me? When has love ever saved me or shown mercy?"

Integra took a deep breath in. This was her chance to confuse him, to baffle him, to entice him. She thought quickly and came up with an answer that she only knew to be half-true.

"The night you were spared by my father," she replied.

Vlad stopped walking and turned sharply to her, "Your father didn't spare me out of _love_." Vlad's eyes flashed with anger.

"No, my Lord, he spared you because he knew that that was what I wanted, and he loves _me_," Integra corrected.

The warrior's eyes softened into their charismatic glow once more, "You would be the first to want me alive and well in this world, and the first to recognize my full title. Your kindness…it reminds me of my mother. But she was ripped from me…when the Turks came for me, and for Radu."

Integra smiled, "Well, Sir Vlad, I can assure you that I _won't_ be going anywhere. My life has been already decided. I will be saddled with the menial tasks of tending to the castle while my brothers rule it."

Vlad chuckled down a deep laugh, "I can tell that you're thinking your life is already in a cage, my Lady."

She put both hands on her hips, "Is it _not_?"

"You are nobility. I do not think that will be your fate," * he answered and stepped toward her, memorizing her features and took her hand. Lowering his stature to meet hers and wincing only once, he delicately held it in a gentle manner and kissed her soft white skin.

Integra bowed her head slightly and received his politeness but retracted her hand moments later.

"I thank you for this…intriguing conversation, and I leave you now to go about your duties, soldier," she curtsied and began to walk away, not looking back. All she heard was the uneven footfalls of Vlad's limp as he slowly walked away as well.

"My Lady," he stated over his shoulder, not daring to look.

Integra stopped in her tracks, but didn't dare turn around to see his face either. "Yes?"

Vlad swallowed. He knew it was beneath him to want to set her eyes upon him once more. He knew it was rude to think of it and completely out of line to ask it, but something about this girl piqued his mind and interest. She was much smarter and more glib than credit given to her. He even accepted the idea that she was better at reading him more than the regent himself. Was it possible that he finally found someone who was competent in this kingdom? Was it possible that she understood him, that she even cared? He had to find out.

"It would please me to know if I could see you again," he lightly stated, still not facing her.

Integra closed her eyes and smiled. _Finally_. Her work had paid off. He fell for the bait. She had reached him. Now all she had to do was get close enough to control him, and then she could prove to everyone that she was capable of ruling.

"Only time will tell," she used his earlier phrase against him and continued to walk, grinning from ear to ear.

He continued forward his own way at the same time, grinning also, and accepting her cryptic remark with open arms.

.•*´¨`*•.

"A cage."** That's from the movie The Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers, (the second one) when Eowyn tells Aragorn that she fears 'a cage' most of all.

"I do not think that will be your fate."** Is Aragorn's response to Eowyn's comment.

Just thought that those would fit. I love it when she says that, because what strong and powerful woman loves being bridled? It reminded me of Integra completely ^.^

Hope you enjoyed this one!

Please R&R


	7. Sieges and Battles

**A/N:** I'm becoming so pleased with this story. I just love what I can play with in the in-between years of Vlad's life. Say, for example, 1452 to 1456. Those are two huge dates for him; but in between, nothing significant happens in his life, and it's up to me to guestimate since his whole life obviously won't be documented :)

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Sieges and Battles

Background:

After two weeks of constant healing, Hadúr ceased to show signs of lameness and was able to trot and canter short distances. He was able to stretch down and lie down without exacerbating his injury and he was able to be saddled with armor without anything hurting. What he couldn't do was jump. But Vlad stayed hopeful of his horse's progress, and knew that Hadúr would be ready for the next battle. It was scheduled in two weeks where Ladislaus would bring up the rear and Vlad would flank the Ottomans to the right, weakening their ground soldiers while Ladislaus would creep along the left side and penetrate from within their own lines. The king had organized it, and Vlad had agreed to it.

~But what was surprising was the fact that the Ottomans struck Hungary's boarders a week too early~

.•*´¨`*•.

Vlad woke up with a start in Bagamér, a village in the northeastern outskirts of Hungary, and instantly reached for his sword with a gasp. He looked down to find himself still within his tent, not trapped in an Ottoman's room, still hearing the grumbling of his men outside, and still with a wound on his torso that tore and bled when he made swift movements. He breathed in a huge sigh and felt his shoulders relax once more in his bed sheets.

"A dream. Me? Dreaming…? How ridiculous!" Vlad readjusted his sword and sighed again.

Dreaming of the night he was taken to Edirne…no, _dragged_ to Edirne, brought chills up his spine. The sounds of his mother's muffled screams, his other brothers fighting the guards, and hearing himself shout in protest. Strong arms carrying him outside and planting him on a horse along with Radu next to him on a different horse. And more screams as he galloped off with a rider guiding the horse. He purposely fell off of the horse and tried to run back to his family more than a few times, all the while not understanding what was going on.

Vlad shut his eyes tight. It wasn't until he and Radu had arrived at Edirne that the Sultan told him of the arrangement his father had made with the Ottomans. Vlad had blocked out those beginning years of his training in Edirne; the trauma, the physical beating and the emotional beating was enough to repress what had happened, but he never forgot his initial feelings of burning hatred for his father and later for Hungary. He would never forget what his father had done to him to 'save Vlad and his family', but he would never forget what Hungary had _not_ done: helped.

Vlad groaned as he jerked away from the sudden jolt of pain his torso had made as he tried to roll over. His wound was beginning to bother him. But the young soldier had learned to ignore jabbing pains years before. Just before Vlad fell back asleep, he reached for the cross around his neck and felt its familiar cold metal shape.

.•*´¨`*•.

Ladislaus grunted as he crawled out of his tent and stretched his limbs, yawning out the morning. Taking in a deep cold breath, he looked at his surroundings and smiled. Soldiers bustling with movement around the camp carried firewood, saddles, food, and fresh pails of water. A few men nodded to the young Lord and bowed their heads as they jogged off. Nothing felt better than a day out training for another battle.

"Andor!" Ladislaus shouted to a young man, "Come here, please."

The young boy, newly turned seventeen, jogged up while balancing his own pale of fresh water, "Yes, my Lord?"

Ladislaus pointed to his horse, "Do you think you could go scouting for me? Do you think you could try and find where the Ottomans might have their camps in hiding on our grounds?"

Andor's face brightened at the honorable task, "I would be most honored if my Lord even considered me worthy of it."

Ladislaus slapped the young man on the back, "Fantastic. You ride out now. They probably will be on the outskirts, and from our scouts last night, they reported that the Ottomans were above Bagamér. Where they could be now is a mystery that needs to be solved. But," the nobleman stopped the boy, "You must be very careful. If you even sense that they are around, run to the nearest hill to higher ground and try to see if anything is there."

"Yes, Sir!" Andor bowed his head and jogged back off to his horse.

The young Lord waved him goodbye, fastened his belt around his hips, and walked over to sit down next to a morning campfire. A few young soldiers moved to make room for Ladislaus and greeted him with warm smiles.

"Nothing like a freezing Hungarian morning to cheer everyone up, eh?" one joked as he sipped on some soup.

"We will kick Ottoman ass by the time we're finally done practicing," another said.

"Yeah, right. By the time everyone is done, I'll be one hundred years old," the first laughed bitterly.

Ladislaus scoffed with a smile, "We will be done by midmorning tomorrow, and I can promise you that."

The man stirring the soup grunted, "Ah, there _he_ goes again."

Ladislaus followed the man's gaze and turned around to see Vlad arguing with another soldier. Both were gesticulating their viewpoints and shouting profanities at the other. The soldiers around the small campfire chuckled and went back to sipping their morning breakfast. The first scooted closer to Ladislaus and cleared his throat.

"What do you know about Sir Vlad, my Lord?" he glanced back at the arguing men. "All of the soldiers here don't trust him, and I think it wasn't wise to put such a man in command of the army."

Ladislaus felt his jaw tighten, "I wouldn't question the regent's motives, if I were you. His judgment is fine…" his manner softened, "As it is, I do agree with you. He is a shady man. I don't know much about him, other than the fact that he was taken as a hostage to the Ottoman Empire at a very young age, poisoned and infected by them, and now lives here supposedly speaking of 'annihilating the Sultan and his armies'."

"He has switched sides…just like _that_?" the soldier snapped his fingers.

Ladislaus took another glance at the Wallachian, "I believe so."

The man stirring the soup laughed, "Who believes him? _You_?" he asked in disbelief, not in the slightest considering the idea that a young Lord of Hungary would side with an Ottoman.

"No," Ladislaus admitted, "But my father does believe him. And…so does my sister."

One raised his eyes brows, but before any other words were shared around the campfire, a fight broke out between Vlad and the officer he was arguing with. Both men began to punch the other mercilessly. Soldiers stood up to watch the fight, but didn't dare impede. Instead, everyone seemed to gather in a circle and shouted. Some begged them to stop while others egged them to continue fighting.

Vlad feinted right and swung left, hitting the officer right in the jaw. The man staggered back, but charged Vlad once more head on. Vlad juked the man and grabbed his swinging fist. Pulling it forward, Vlad then swept his right foot underneath the officer, tripping him. The man fell back-first into the dirt with a thud.

Vlad grinned and spat out the rest of the blood in his mouth, "I told you that my allegiance lies with Hungary, not the Ottomans. But that doesn't change the fact that we must attack today!"

Ladislaus broke through and into the ring in time to put himself between the officer and the angered Wallachian.

"What are you trying to do, Sir Vlad? We have training to practice," the young Lord locked eyes with him.

Vlad laughed, "This man was trying to make me admit that I was still an Ottoman, trying to find ways to make me guilty in the eyes of the Hungarian regent, trying to elicit a response that would kill me while I was trying to tell him that we all need to attack today!"

"You know we don't have time for this. I know you like to put on a show, and it's been very entertaining. But what the soldiers need is a strong leader, not one who is fighting amongst his other commanders in his own army. We must stand together, not divided," Ladislaus picked the man up and straightened him.

Vlad narrowed his eyes at him, "I see you're comparing this little skirmish to losing the battle completely, my Lord."

"Soldier," Ladislaus warned, "We cannot move out and attack the Ottomans head on. We do not have the men for it nor do we know exactly where they are."

"But with the right tactics, we can!" Vlad insisted.

Ladislaus turned his back away and shook his head, "We cannot afford to waste bodies trying to find out where the enemy is or when they will strike. I will not allow it, just because of your blood-lust."

The young Lord was about to walk into his tent when a knife was sent flying right next to the his head and into the main wooden pole that held his tent up. Ladislaus whirled around with an astonished face and looked at the knife that was inches away from his head. He then turned back around and faced an enraged man.

"No one accuses me of blood-lust without hearing my reasoning first," Vlad gritted his teeth.

Ladislaus squared his shoulders and reentered the circle, watching his own men murmur in anticipation of another fight.

"I don't need to hear your justification for why you adamantly think we must attack. I am Lord Ladislaus of Hungary, and I can make my own decisions," Ladislaus turned and glanced at his men for support. Soldiers grunted in agreement to his words.

Vlad exhaled in defeat when another option occurred to him. He smiled devilishly and side-stepped closer to the noble.

"It's funny," Vlad began to say as Ladislaus started to walk away again, "Your _sister_ always lends an ear to me when I talk to her."

The nobleman stopped to a dead halt and turned around slowly, his eyes a murderous, icy blue. "What…did…you…say…?"

Vlad chuckled and threw his hands up in mockery, "I said your sister, Lady Integra, always listens to me when we talk, which is quite often."

"You…you _spoke_ to her?"

"Indeed, I did. Last we spoke was the day that I left. She fared me well on my journey, _sweet girl that she is_," Vlad grinned as Ladislaus pulled out his own knife.

"Do not talk about my sister as if she is your friend, and _do not call her by her first name_!" he shouted and slashed at the Wallachian.

But Vlad was too quick and turned out of the way. "I must warn you that I was trained quite well in the defense arts at Edirne on how to fight without throwing a single punch."

"Lies!" Ladislaus charged Vlad again with his knife out like a spear, "You'll always be an Ottoman, you freak!"

But Vlad just as easily dodged him again and kicked his foot out in front to trip the nobleman. The act sent Ladislaus sailing into the pillows of his tent. "It may humble you into silence, dearest noble," Vlad grinned, tossing his own knife from hand to hand.

The young Lord growled as he tried to pick up his knife quickly, looking like an uncoordinated whelp at his first match.

Vlad placed his hands behind his back and smiled, "Best to just give up now."

Ladislaus roared in anger as he righted himself from his tent, gave up looking for his knife, and unsheathed his sword, "Consider these to be your last words, filthy Ottoman."

Vlad bent his knees slightly and watched as Ladislaus ran up to him and slashed at a downward angle to his neck. But the Wallachian crouched and darted through the arch Ladislaus's arm had created when the sword hit the ground and switched to the other side, now facing his back to the tent.

Ladislaus turned around and wielded his sword through the tent, trying to stab his enemy. Pillows exploded into feathers and sheets were ripped and torn all around the luxurious abode as Vlad concentrated on his feet and made his way backwards through the tent. It wasn't until the end of the tent provided a barrier when Vlad unsheathed his own sword from his belt and clashed into Ladislaus. Within the struggle, both men slashed open the end of the tent and proceeded to fight outside once more.

Vlad grinned as he noticed the band of soldiers following them, eager to know who the victor would be. Ladislaus began to pant at the exhaustion of trying desperately to hit Vlad, but the Wallachian was focused on reading the nobleman's moves and hardly struck his sword toward his opponent. This made Ladislaus all the more angry and fervent in his reaches to strike Vlad. The Wallachian simply stood his distance and watched his opponent become overwhelmed by his own fatigue, eventually making it easier and easier for Vlad to dodge his sword this way and that. Finally, Ladislaus growled and lunged one last time. He hit air instead of flesh. Again.

The Lord crouched over and grabbed them as he inhaled a winded breath of air. Vlad let his smile spread into a grin. "Has it humbled you yet, my superior?"

Ladislaus grumbled something inaudible and straightened his stature with a smile, "Alright. You got me, I was an ass. I deserved it. I'm listening."

Vlad smiled, but ceased rubbing the Lord's nose in a wound of his own making. He appreciated the courtesy and the calm manner in which Ladislaus controlled himself from acting out of line to prove a point. The men shook hands and parted stiffly.

"As I was trying to say, the Ottomans have a way of…" Vlad's gaze darted across the forest-line, "…sneak attacking occasionally to surprise the enemy."

Ladislaus's eyes widened, "You mean…you don't think this force will attack us honorably?"

Vlad smiled, "They do not think that Hungarians have honor. They do not think you are capable of understanding what it is to _have_ honor. They attack and peel soldiers from the sides of your flanks until nothing is left. It's something that I learned to do in times of dire need, for example, when one is outmatched."

Ladislaus lowered his expression into a frown, "So you're saying that we should fight without honor; that we should fight dirty and attack them occasionally and…woodshed their sides until there is nothing left?"

"Precisely," Vlad nodded, adjusting his belt and cape.

Hushed murmurs between the soldiers erupted until voices rose to normal conversation level. Ladislaus raised a hand and everything went quiet once more. He considered every word Vlad had said, but he wasn't comfortable changing the battle last minute for Vlad's idea without consulting his father, the regent-governor, which was impossible since the army was too far out. And it didn't seem too appealing to use his father's army as a knife to stab the Ottoman's army when they could be one huge sword and cut right down the middle.

"I don't know, Sir Vlad. I do not think it is wise to change the battle halfway before the fight."

"It is better to be unpredictable in your enemy's eyes! Think of how confused they would be if we used their own tactic against them! It would scatter their ranks and they would go running back, thinking that a ghost was killing them off!" Vlad's voice animated with fervency.

"Still, I think–"

"My _Lord_," Vlad painfully said, "In times where you have the lesser advantage –that being fewer soldiers– then I think you should use scare tactics of peeling them off a little at a time into manageable bites, otherwise you will be overwhelmed by the massive size of their army. Is that what you want, my Lord?"

Ladislaus sharply turned to him, "It's not a matter of what _I_ want, but rather what my father wants. And what he desires is for us to hit them head on. You saw it and you approved it; do not accuse me of being the only one who was silent at the debriefing."

Vlad lowered his head, "And now I regret the moment I approved it. I feel as though I've sentenced all of you to your deaths."

The soldiers moved restlessly and began to shout at Vlad in anger.

"What the hell, I thought you were on our side!"

"Do you truly want to get us killed?!"

"You're still one of them, aren't you?!"

"I'm not going to sign on my death by following this man!"

"Make an example of him!"

Ladislaus faced his men, "Alright, that's enough! There is no time to argue and I won't have people start dividing themselves for or against this man," he pointed to Vlad, "As of right now, we need to get on with our training! Now, everyone, form ranks!"

Each soldier formed into a line and held their shields up with their swords at their hips. Dead expressions followed as the nobleman examined each of the soldier's stature and place in line, making sure that everything was impeccable. He lifted the chin of one, turned another slightly one way, tapped one soldier's shield so he would lift it higher, and yelled at another who had lost one of his shoes.

Vlad rolled his eyes in disgust and tapped his foot impatiently. If they were in battle, it would not matter how impeccable their ranks were; everyone scatters and fights individual men once it's hand-to-hand combat anyway. There is no point in shining one's shoes right before he gets them muddy. But Vlad instantly forgot about his thoughts when a beaten and bloodied rider rode up to the camp. Vlad ran to the horse with his hands up to halt the animal. The horse whinnied, and by that time, Ladislaus had noticed Vlad running toward something.

"Whoa, whoa," Vlad said in a loud but low voice.

The horse complied and halted from trotting. It panted uncontrollably and winced as Vlad took the tied rider off of the saddle; there was blood smeared everywhere, and he didn't know where it was coming from. But as soon as Vlad turned the body over, he noticed an arrow shot through the young man's chest with a note on it. Vlad took the rider off and laid him on the cool grass. Ladislaus had run up in time to see the rider's face and glazed over eyes. He gasped and covered his mouth.

"S-such…brutality," the noble lamented, "Andor was just a kid, barely a man…"

Vlad ignored Ladislaus and concentrated on pulling out the arrow. In one good tug, it yanked out, spurting blood. Ladislaus winced, but Vlad knelt there and took the note off of the arrow. He held it up to his face and read every word of it over and over again, his eyes narrowing by the second.

Ladislaus peered over it anxiously, "What does it say? I demand you tell me."

Vlad stood up and turned swiftly around, reciting what he could read from the ink that hadn't smeared from the blood, "Vladislaus, you have been branded a traitor. I know you have allied yourself with the Hungarian barbarians, and we will hunt you down to the last man that stands with you. Consider Wallachia a dead province since you abandoned her as well. Everyone you know will die, and everything you hold true will perish like it did in the dungeons of Edirne years ago. Farewell, brother," Vlad crumpled up the paper and stared into the Lord's eyes with hatred that could burn fields of grain.

"Brother?" Ladislaus asked.

Vlad nodded, "It is my brother, Radu. He is commanding this Ottoman army. Like a fool, I let your ruler believe it was feasible to attack them head on with such weak numbers! I thought there was a chance, but knowing now that it is commanded by my _brother_, we have no choice. We _must_ attack them from the sides; there is no other way."

"Sir Vlad, I told you–"

"LADISLAUS!" Vlad shouted, "THERE IS NO OTHER WAY! YOU HAVE TO _TRUST_ _ME_!"

The nobleman halted his words and stared at the Wallachian for a brief moment, eyeing not only him but his merits. Before long, he was nodding silently.

"Alright," he murmured, "Alright. I trust you, Sir Vlad."

"Good," Vlad whirled around and grabbed a hold of Andor's horse, "You must understand: Radu is already on his way to the Hunyadi Castle. We haven't much time."

"MEN!" Ladislaus shouted and waved the soldiers over, "The enemy has swept past us undetected! They are headed to the castle, and we will not let them get that far! Mount your horses! We ride now! We ride for Hungary!"

.•*´¨`*•.

**Shout out to**_**GasmaskedMook**_: Thank you. I started out unsure of the history, but then was completely engulfed by it. I couldn't stop reading what had happened to him, and I knew I had to write his story as accurately as possible…of course, with a little fun :D And I'm really glad you noticed that Integra is like a younger version of herself in the Manga. She is very sheltered, and the more she hangs out with Vlad, the more she'll realize how dangerous it is out there. And yay Walter! I love keeping his character exactly the same. Someone had to stay the constant of this story. Can't wait to see what you think of the next chapters!

**Shout out to**_**Bodacious Bovine**_: I'm so glad you like it. Not very many people have been reviewing it, so I'm not exactly sure how good it is in the eyes of my readers…I was hoping everyone would see a more human side to Vlad/Alucard in this, mostly because he IS human in this story. He's not Dracula yet! Hahaha Integra is still young and naïve, but in time, she will become even more strong and confident. Anything she sets her mind to is ultimately accomplished. Again, thanks for reviewing!


	8. Monsters and Heroes

**A/N:** ^.^ So relieved that I finally updated this story. I'd been aching to get it posted, and now I finally have. In the similar words of a fellow reviewer, I update to spoil you!

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Heroes and Monsters

Infantry, archers, and cavalry all trudged through the thick mud of the spring. Every man wadded his way through the green terrain, past creeks, down small canyons, into forests, and over rolling hills. Time was against the soldiers, but men and horse alike were racing as fast as possible to save their country from invasion. They would not stand for an Ottoman invasion. Muscles ached, swords and shields carried grew heavy with weight, and mouths went dry like wells at the emptiness of water canteens. Men started to trip and fall, started to sway as they stood still for a moment's breath. Spirits began to lose their hope as men cursed and swore to the sky.

Ladislaus took the scene in as he paused atop another hill, watching his men slowly run below. He had never ceased being proud of them, but this proved their ultimate dedication. This proved their unshaken faith, or so he hoped. Vlad pulled up alongside him on Hadúr and nodded curtly.

"Do you think we will make it?" Ladislaus asked, taking hold of his reins on his nervous horse.

Vlad kept a stern eye on the slowing men, "One can only pray."

The nobleman turned his head back to the soldiers and clucked to his horse. The steed obeyed and trekked its way back down the hill. Vlad stood for a moment and then returned back to his men as well. He was proud of them too. So far, they had begun picking off the Ottoman's army's sides for three days, and casualties had been kept at a minimum. No one could quite figure out how Vlad had done it; how he was able to coordinate the lethal sneak attacks. The trick, Vlad assured, was to attack at night. Confusion and fear got the best of the Ottoman troops, and, so far, the Hungarians had the upper hand. There was only one problem Vlad had to face: how to maintain the upper hand.

"My Lord," a soldier ran up to Ladislaus, "Just over the next hill is a small valley. I have spotted the Ottomans there."

Vlad chuckled next to Ladislaus and patted his horse's neck, "Then we shall stay within the shadow of this hill…for now."

Ladislaus nodded and turned his horse to face Vlad, "We have enough men to circle the Ottomans tonight."

"And from there we can set a volley of archers' arrows over the hilltop and down upon them. Waves of them," Vlad agreed.

"Then we can close in on them and corner them within the valley…no escape," Ladislaus continued.

"Until there is no way out but to try and fight through our ranks," Vlad's eyes flashed with anticipation and delight.

"We will soon then outnumber them."

"Better yet," Vlad realized, "After the volleys of arrows, we should flank with the cavalry and scatter them. That way, they're even weaker as an opponent."

Ladislaus laughed devilishly, "You truly are a remarkable soldier, Sir Vlad."

The Wallachian grinned at the nobleman, "Yes. I know."

Both ordered their soldiers into the forest just to their left for safety and concealment. At first, the troops complained that they wished to charge forward, but once a few campfires were lit and soldiers were broken into shifts, only twenty-five eating and resting at a time, there were hardly any whines left. Vlad and Ladislaus didn't take any chances with the Ottomans, and especially with his brother Radu commanding them. For this reason, Vlad made sure that only a maximum of fifty soldiers were resting at any given time. Then the next shift of men would rest their shields and sheath their swords for dinner and a quick nap. But Vlad made sure that his men knew this was only temporary; they could not afford to rest for very long and always had to keep an eye out for Ottoman scouts. Both The Wallachian and the Hungarian Lord never dismounted their horses.

"Do you think that the Ottomans will move? Or that they will see us?" the nobleman asked as he watched his horse drink from a pale of water.

Vlad took a deep breath and sighed, "No. I do not believe so. Radu knows that he is in unfamiliar territory, and he only knows a rough sketch of where the Hungarian castle is. However," Vlad looked to the sunset, "He knows we are near, and he knows that we will probably attack tonight since that's what we've been doing for three days."

"Then would you suggest charging into battle now could be wiser…and more unpredictable?" Ladislaus considered.

"If we attack during any time where there is light, then they will have the advantage of seeing us. I can see us either attacking in the night, or just before dawn," Vlad replied, turning around in his saddle to eye the men.

Ladislaus took a moment to process the thought and began to nod slowly, "I understand."

Vlad turned back around in his seat and smiled, "I'm glad."

"So we should probably switch it up and attack before dawn then?"

Vlad grinned and pushed his dark locks away from his face, "I was just thinking that."

.•*´¨`*•.

"What?" Matthias felt his eyes widen as he glanced up from his book.

Integra smiled, "I said, it's time for your bath. You know how filthy you got playing outside today."

Matthias gasped and slammed the book shut. He scooted off of the soft furniture of the sofa and heard his feet slam into the ground. Integra's body tensed, readying her snatch. But Matthias was quicker and shot out of her radius and bolted for the door.

"MATTHIAS!" Integra shouted in a warning tone as she ran for him.

"YOU! CAN'T! MAKE! MEEEEE!" he called, his voice growing fainter.

Two nobles sprinted through corridors and into other well decorated rooms; one the hunter and the other the hunted. Chairs were tossed into Integra's way, things ripped off of shelves and shattered to the floor in a desperate attempt to trip her. But in her experience, she hurtled over the obstacles and charged forward, half infuriated and half laughing.

"Why do you hate being clean? Why can't you just sit through it, just once?" Integra began to pant, but didn't dare stop running.

Matthias slipped on the rug in the corner of the next room and that gave his older sister just enough time to pounce onto him. She grabbed his arms and torso, not minding that he began to kick and shout at her. She covered his mouth with one hand and placed him on her hip, carrying him back up stairs and to the bathing room where servants would take care of him.

Matthias ceased squirming and gasped for air, "To answer your question…I…am…a soldier of the….Hungarian nobility…and I shall be…taken seriously."

Integra chuckled, "What does that mean?"

"It means that we soldiers do not need _baths_," he said the word with disgust, "We are above it!"

This made Integra laugh even more, "Indeed. But you are not a soldier. You are nobility, not a stable boy, or a street rat. As long as I am here, you will remain relatively clean for a young rambunctious lad."

Matthias still upturned his nose to the air and refused to listen. Integra shrugged at his pout and turned the last corner. A servant bowed to her and opened her arms to take the child. Integra transferred the kid and waved a goodbye hand in his direction. Matthias was too preoccupied at avoiding the next room he was about to enter, and Integra could already hear water from pails filling up a tub.

She sighed and straightened her auburn dress and the laces holding it upright. Unsure of what to do next, Integra had hardly the time to decide anything when she saw a familiar person turn the corner and pause in the door frame, smiling.

"My Lady," Walter bowed deeply and held his arm out for her. She took it gladly and walked with him.

"Good evening, Walter. How have you been?" she asked.

"I've been well, thank you. You look lovely," he replied; always the formalities.

Integra smiled and looked over his slightly disheveled look, his light brown hair twisted into knots. "How did you know where to find me?" she asked.

He looked at her with a wry smile, "Well, generally all I had to do was follow the trail of destruction."

"Oh dear," Integra whispered, "Matthias was throwing things that would get in my way while I chased him. He didn't want to take his bath…"

Walter chuckled, "Indeed, it happens every time. I just was making sure you were alright."

"I'm fine," she assured and headed for her room.

"Well then. I think I'll go and dust the dining room," Walter bowed once more and left Integra.

The young Lady cocked her head to one side as she watched him whirl back around and leave with light steps. The direction he was headed confused her most of all because the dining room was in the opposite direction. She looked to her right and left, and then proceeded to follow him softly, making sure her footfalls were unheard even by his keen ears. She picked up the ends of her dress and shuffled past the corners undetected. And by the second corner, she knew exactly where he was going: the governor's chamber. Integra felt her heart beat faster and only hoped that he had been beckoned.

He turned another corner, and this time looked behind him instinctively. Integra whirled back around to the other side and caught her breath, closing her eyes as if she would be invisible. To her luck, she turned just in time and Walter did not see her. Waiting a few minutes more, Integra found the guts to look around the corner again, and what she saw shocked her.

Walter was pressing his ear to the door, his body bending to meet the best possible spot to hear what was being said on the inside. She almost scoffed in shock at the sight and crept slowly behind his field of vision. Closer, closer. She stepped with her toes first and then slid the ball of her foot to the ground's cold stone floor. Finally coming up right on his back, she smiled and cleared her throat.

He jumped reflexively and covered his mouth, turning around slowly as if he were under water. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of who had followed him so secretively. His mouth couldn't even form the right words to relieve him out of trouble.

"I-I-we-I-was-I-just," he babbled.

Her grin grew at the sight of his distress and vulnerability, "Yes?"

"I know my actions may seem…" he paused trying to think of the word.

"Guilty?" she tried.

"_Peculiar_," he amended, "…I suppose I had it coming, but if you knew what he planned…"

Integra's smile faded and found herself matching her servant's whisper, "What are you talking about? Who?"

Walter offered his hand to her and led her into a different room across the hall with evident haste. Closing the door behind him and checking more than once if the room was occupied, he then relaxed a little.

"The governor beckons me many times throughout the day for chores that need to be finished," Walter started out.

"Yes," Integra answered.

"I began to notice that he barely keeps Lord Alexander Anderson twenty feet away from him. Whenever I am called into the chamber, Lord Anderson is always with him, and they are always discussing a heavy topic."

Integra's stature perked with curiosity, "Well, what were they talking about?"

Walter hesitated and gave her a reluctant look.

"Walter, if it has something to do with Ladislaus or Sir Vlad, I must know."

Upon the second name, Walter looked down and Integra could tell she had hit her mark.

"My Lady," he said in despair, but she frowned decisively. He sighed and knew he would eventually be ordered to tell her anyway. "The regent-governor, your father, has known all along that there was an Ottoman army at Hungary's borders. He knew of their existence for some time, but he never had enough men to confront them…until Sir Vlad came."

"My father sent Sir Vlad and Ladislaus's green army out to fight the Ottomans?" she heard her voice rise.

"Whether it was a test or a hope that Sir Vlad would die, I don't know. I don't understand his reasons, but I heard about 'bait'. And I think that they were trying to tempt Sir Vlad into returning to the Ottoman Empire. I believe what Sir Vlad does in this battle is crucial to his survival and to his delicate alliance with Hungary," Walter quickly whispered back.

Integra did not know whether to be horrified that her father was manipulating Vlad or impressed that he was testing a possible enemy.

"And that's not all…" Walter continued, "The man in charge of the Ottoman army is his younger brother, Radu."

"My father is setting up Sir Vlad to kill his kin, his own brother?" Integra shook her head in disgust, "I didn't know my father was capable of settling so low, even for his standards."

Walter gave a resigned nod, "You can see why I've been…eavesdropping," he shamefully admitted.

"Au contraire," Integra grinned, "I was waiting for you to finally do something morally unethical by your standards. You have now proved to me that you're human."

"Am I really that uptight?" Walter reflected her smile. In response, she kissed him on the cheek and curtsied politely.

"It's what makes you so trustworthy," she murmured and motioned to leave the room.

A scream from across the hall sent Integra flying out of the room along with Walter. She turned the corner and saw Seras holding a guard's head up from the ground, his body shaking as it screamed for oxygen. Integra ran to her sister and gasped as she saw whom it was.

"Pip?"

The familiar red-headed guard coughed and wheezed, "Yes, my Lady. I was coming to inform the governor."

Footsteps followed Integra's as Walter turned the corner along with the governor himself and Anderson by his side. They each look shocked.

"What happened?" The regent-governor asked.

"My Lord," Pip tried to bow his head, "I have spotted Ottomans at our doorstep not 32 kilometers from here."

"_WHAT_?" Anderson shouted and immediately turned accusingly to his ruler.

The governor merely scoffed and pointed his hand at Pip, "There has to be more."

Pip nodded, "There is. I saw Lord Ladislaus's army in the hill's shadow. I think they mean to attack at night."

Anderson cocked his head to one side, "What? Why would you attack your enemy at night? That makes no sense."

"To gain the advantage," The governor answered, "Very clever…you are better protected in the night when your enemy cannot see you or your moves."

"It's ingenious really," Pip was able to slow his breathing.

"Father," Integra stated with some weight; a quick glance from Walter stopped her from continuing what she had originally wanted to say.

"What?" he asked.

Integra looked at the ground, "I…I was just wondering if you were going to send soldiers to help them."

"It is too late," he stated apologetically and nodded over to the horizon, "Do you see that sunset? We would be riding blindly into the night if I asked troops to leave now."

The young Lady softly snorted and turned around, sending a stern glance Anderson's way as she went. Anderson's frown deepened as she shot him the look. Integra knew she and Anderson never saw eye-to-eye. He was forever suspicious of her intentions, and she suspicious of his. Integra read the governor's fake sentiment in those words like a trashy book. Completely revolted by her own father, she passed him and his advisor and headed down to the only place she felt safe. Seras stood, silent, and followed her sister.

.•*´¨`*•.

Ladislaus hushed his men as he and Vlad rode up the dark hilltop side and looked down to where the Ottomans had their encampment. Vlad pulled up next to the young Lord and exchanged anticipated glances. Both men could hardly wait to invade and tear every living thing apart inside.

"I just got back from the eastern phalanx. They are ready and brimming with angst," Vlad reported in a hushed murmur.

"Good, very good," Ladislaus answered, "We have the Northern and the Eastern phalanx pointing inward at a downward angle. This will confuse and penetrate the insides of their encampment, giving us the advantage and the lead."

"Yes, my Lord," Vlad cleared his throat, "But we must consider the fact that we need to go in, and then come right back out."

Ladislaus turned to Vlad in the saddle and gave him a reproachful look, "Sir Vlad, we can take them. We have the numbers."

"Yes," Vlad nodded, "But we haven't the experience or the weaponry to sustain a long battle. My intentions were to strike and then run. I know it's not the noblest of ways to fight, but it is effective."

The nobleman's ears preferred to grow deaf at Vlad's words, and he unsheathed his sword, kicking his horse in the side. "I know you think that Ottoman tactics are superior to Hungarian, but let me show you how it's done."

Vlad shook his head, "My Lord, this isn't wise. You'll kill off every single one of the men."

"Being able to sustain and maintain your men in battle is what proves if you're a good leader, Sir Vlad. And I intend to prove to my father that I am ready to rule Hungary in his stead. No better way can I achieve this than to fight head on," his horse cantered forward and he called over his shoulder, "I know you're not nobility and don't have this kind of pressure, but try to understand!"

Vlad gritted his teeth and slammed his fist against his shield in silent protest. Hadúr jumped nervously. "Goddamn nobility. Of course I wouldn't know what pressure is all about. Why in the world would I know anything about pressure? It's not like I've been fighting fate to keep myself alive this long in life," he spat sarcastically at the ground.

The Wallachian fought inside himself, whether or not to follow the young Lord and stop him. Nothing good would come of it for Vlad, but he would be able to stop the deaths of nearly a thousand men. Was his pride that great? Was it that vast? Did it cover his morals, and blind his ethical code engraved within his mind since birth?

"No," Vlad answered himself and clucked to his horse. It galloped forward and followed in the footsteps of Ladislaus's horse.

Hadúr gripped the ground with his hooves, pounding out dirt and grass with every stride. Vlad unsheathed his sword and tried to charge the noble from behind. However, once Vlad had located Ladislaus, he already held his sword from the hilt and shouted the commencement of the battle with a cry.

"CHARGE!" The nobleman yelled, throwing the tip of his blade forward in a motion to attack.

The cavalry raced forward, leading the lines. Ready soldiers also jumped forward in their lines and ran to the bottom of the hill. Vlad rode up next to Ladislaus's horse and halted sharply.

"Have you gone _mad_?" Vlad shouted, now over hundreds of other shouts from the soldiers.

Ladislaus shook his head, "No. This is what war is all about, isn't it? Isn't that what you've tried to teach me all along? You said so yourself that you live for war and the conflict."

Vlad growled, "Yes, I do. But not for the unnecessary deaths of my men. I don't purposely place them into harm's way for the fun of it! Especially not when I have too few men! We can't let the Ottomans win!"

Ladislaus neck-reined his horse away and trotted off, "You can talk to me about your feelings later, Wallachian. We have a battle to perform. Whether you like it or not, the battle has begun. Now, are you coming or not?"

Vlad, with a swear word at his lips, found himself beginning to follow his superior, though reluctantly.

_Fine,_ he thought begrudgingly. _I'll see what this Hungarian thinks he can do, and then I'll take what's left and give him a victory._

_.•*´¨`*•._

Ladislaus's desires cloud his judgment, and we will clearly see this in the next chapter.

I think one of the main reasons why Vlad isn't wasting his soldiers is mainly because he's still not completely in the Governor's graces. One wrong turn and his head could come off. Also, he still has faith in Christianity. Once his faith is robbed of him...as well as other things, other...people...well, we will see a different man.

We will see his downward spiral into insanity quite clearly.


	9. Familial Strains

**A/N:** Ok. I've had a rather trying time with this fic, but by no means am I giving up. One doesn't simply 'give up' on Vlad the Impaler. A writer doesn't 'admit defeat'…at least not usually…

And Happy New Year 2012 is here! I suddenly feel old.

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Familial Strains

Vlad's heart raced as he felt his horse's hooves beat the ground. With each massive stride, he felt himself plunge further into the great battle ahead. Men shouted as they blindly raced forward with their swords tipped at the enemy. Waves of them. The campgrounds were just being lit with torches when the Hungarians hit. Ottoman soldiers didn't even have time to prepare in their battle armor as the Christian soldiers attacked them. It was Vlad's time for first blood in this battle, and he smiled as men were cut down before they could even think to reach for their weapons. The Hungarians flooded into tents and stood over drowsy men, lifting swords over their bellies and striking, stabbing, slashing, slicing, twisting, and gutting. It was their chance to get back at their enemy, to get back on all of the times when they were attacked at night and off their guard.

Now it was the Ottomans' turn to experience what that was like. Most of the Hungarian soldiers took this experience heavily, thinking that they weren't honest men, that they were not showing a fair and honorable fight, face to face. But Vlad was somewhat intrigued by the fact that, when given the chance, all of them freely consented to this dirty, back-handed way of killing quickly and then receding. All, at this point, could only see the bodies of their fallen comrades and felt compelled at any cost to avenge them.

Vlad rode in and unsheathed his sword, cutting down an Ottoman in one fluid motion. Some were hobbling with their pants half down as they ran around trying to dodge swings of swords. Vlad sliced another Ottoman's arm off and kicked Hadúr to gallop away. He was too close to the outskirts and had to find his men. Heading eastward, he plunged into the mass of now Ottoman soldiers screaming in agony. The blood already shed was enough to make a man's stomach turn, but Vlad couldn't feel any tug over the rush of adrenaline pumping through his body. Hadúr leaped over a dead campfire and halted next to a tent being burned by Hungarian soldiers. Vlad smiled as they torched the place. He glanced around and yanked on the reins, setting Hadúr off once more, slashing at Ottoman officers stumbling out of their blankets at their men's calls of distress. Each had barely enough time to recognize Vlad, but the ultimate look of astonishment and betrayal was set in their faces as Vlad slaughtered all of them.

No mercy was spared for the men who watched him, as a boy, be mentally degraded and physically tortured for years.

"DEATH, TO ALL WHO BOW TO THE SULTAN!" Vlad shouted as each man barely choked out words before his chest was impaled with the very fast, functional cut-and-thrust sword.

It had a faceted pommel and simple guard, both of steel. The grip was hardwood with a raised center ridge and the upper half wrapped in leather, marking for a very positive grip. With each stroke, he felt more and more released from his prison. As long as these men were alive, a part of him was still dead.

"Vlad," a voice called, "I didn't–"

The Wallachian, without even looking, swung his sword in the direction and pierced something soft. Flesh. Glancing to the voice, he already saw the body fall to the ground. By some stretch of the imagination, he'd hoped it was his brother, Radu. But Vlad only saw an officer who had trained with him years ago in Edirne. A Devout Ottoman. Had to die.

Another stroke and another soldier fell. Hadúr's neck was sprayed with blood as he charged forward to the heart of the encampment. Vlad left men half alive for the Hungarians to finish off. He could not trouble himself with complete casualty rates, not when his familial enemy was lurking about in the shadows.

.•*´¨`*•.

"Milord!" A rough voice called.

Ladislaus turned abruptly, after thrusting his sword into an Ottoman officer about to stab his horse. "Your report?"

"The West phalanx formation is holding steady, but the East phalanx formation is being crippled. It is starting to bend and sway! Apparently, someone decided to place his men on watches. Our tactic of surprise held for only so long! We must pull out!" the Hungarian officer answered as he stopped his horse.

Ladislaus felt his heart jump, "No! That would be admitting defeat, and we are so close! We must stand as men, and fight!" he barely managed to say before his horse jumped out from underneath him. He balanced agilely and righted his mount. "Concentrate the cavalry into the east around the hill and get the archers out of here!"

"Of course!" the officer shouted as he hacked another Ottoman soldier foolish enough to run up with only a knife.

"I will follow once I'm sure the West formation side is steady!" Ladislaus called as the other rider disappeared into the fog of the morning. The only confirmation of his statement was a curt nod.

Ladislaus turned back around and suffered a blow to the chest, knocking him completely off of his ride. His body hit the dirt ground with a dull thud and separate clanks from his armor. The world blackened and blurred to nothing. Comprehending what had happened was above his mental capacity, as Ladislaus felt his body crumple and relax, molding into the ground. Everything, for a moment, seemed out of his control; it seemed unattainable, and farfetched. But a sharp breath drawn and he could feel his chest moving again, and his eyes began to focus gently on the dirt before him.

Blinking to ensure he could attempt to see, he slowly wriggled his fingers and toes. Silently cursing, the young man picked himself up just in time to this time dodge another swinging blow to the chest with a huge, blunt axe. Its wielder was a large Ottoman infantryman, and by the looks of the man's bloodied appearance, he had already taken down a few of Ladislaus's men. The Lord glanced down at his chest plate to see a humbling dent in the abdomen portion, but it took even less time to reach for his own sword and grasp the familiar and soothing touch of the hilt.

"You come at us like the cowards you are! At night!" the Ottoman bellowed, his rotund belly shaking in anger.

"You dare invade Hungary, and you will suffer the consequences we deem fit for your kind, filthy Ottoman! Your kind does not deserve to bear an honorable fight!" Ladislaus shouted back. Leveling his sword to the throat of the man, he smiled and slashed.

Dodged was the first strike, and then the second as well. Ladislaus paused and allowed his enemy a turn. The thought of wearing down and having his enemy slowly take over power was not appealing to the young Lord. He waited, deflecting the next strike and the next. But with each missed blow, Ladislaus could hear the whoosh of the axe getting closer and closer to his helmet. Yet each time, he was fortunate enough to sense the blade smash into the ground, connecting only to the dirt he stood on moments ago.

Hit after hit, and the metallic clank of metal on metal rang within the nobleman's ears as they both tried to reach the other. But each time one gained an advantage, the other would retreat a few steps, and it would buy enough time to correct a near win. The Ottoman was even better at his footwork than Ladislaus could have imagined. After the seventh time at attempting to strike the enemy, Ladislaus came up with nothing, not one piece of flesh on his sword; only the sharp hiss of metal ran through his ears once more.

Hurling the weapon again, the Ottoman roared as he rushed forward. Ladislaus felt his backside hit against the trunk of a large tree. He instantly ducked and felt the vibration of the axe hit the tree trunk. The Ottoman soldier, quickly realizing what had happened, tried to give it a tug. But the axe was embedded in the tree, and with a concerned glance, the Ottoman looked over at his enemy who was now devilishly grinning.

"You seem to be in need of a weapon..." Ladislaus brought his sword up to his face, making it all the more insulting.

The Ottoman returned the grin suddenly as he let go of the axe, and Ladislaus gaped as, from what appeared to be within the folds of his fat, he was able to pull out a huge wielding sword.

"Then perhaps you are more blind than I thought," the Ottoman soldier scoffed and leveled his huge sword to the Lord's throat.

Frustration overcame Ladislaus, when something sparkled out of the corner of his eye; another sword previously dropped by someone else!

"RAAAA!" The Ottoman charged Ladislaus once more, and this time, the blade caught his metal shoulder cap.

Ladislaus twisted away just before the soldier was able to rotate his wrist and slash the inside of his shoulder. Groaning as he could almost feel his skin being sliced up, Ladislaus returned the favor by whacking his sword to the left in an attempt to scare his opponent. The trick worked and distracted the massive soldier for a moment. Taking a risk, the nobleman lunged for the second sword on the ground, diving for it.

The Ottoman saw this move and raced up to the vulnerable Lord. Ladislaus heard gigantic footsteps approaching and within seconds, a blunt blade stabbed downward. Ladislaus instinctively rolled to one side, praying he wasn't rolling into the sword's path. Luckily, the weapon struck down and hit dirt. The Ottoman raised the sword again and thrust it downward.

A scream exited the Ottoman's lips as he looked down and realized that Ladislaus had impaled him with both his sword and the one he dove for on the ground. Gasping for his last breaths of air, he let out a choked smile and swear word as his body fell forward. The nobleman quickly rolled one last time and dodged the massive body hurling toward him. A loud 'thunk' vibrated the ground, signifying the end of their fight and his foe's life.

After a moment of silence, the young Lord inhaled a strangled breath of his own and groaned at a sudden stab of pain. Glancing down at his shoulder, a trail of blood already began to trickle down the silver armor; from where inside, he did not know. Very slowly, Ladislaus got up to his knees, then stood up and reached for his weapon by pushing the Ottoman's body over.

"Surprising," he gruffly muttered, "That was actually a technique that your army taught Vlad, your latest defect. I suppose I should thank the Wallachian for using a second sword against me."

Another officer rode toward Ladislaus carrying the nobleman's horse alongside.

"The Eastern phalanx formation has crippled! You must hurry if you are to save them, my Lord!" the officer halted both horses as close to Ladislaus as possible.

Ladislaus wiped the dirt and blood from his mouth and nodded, "Let us both go now. This half is secure," he planted his left foot in the stirrup and swung his body over the top of the saddle, a move that was far more cumbersome than he expected.

"My Lord," the cavalryman's eyes widened, "You are injured."

Ladislaus waved a dismissive hand, "And that will be tended to when we return to my father. Right now, my men need a leader, and we must get to them as soon as possible if we are to win this battle," he kicked his horse's sides and went bounding off. Without another option, the officer followed.

.•*´¨`*•.

Smoke rose in puffs and cloud-like forms as it touched the dawning sky above. Vlad dismounted his horse as he caught sight of a familiar uniform walking through the mist of the morning. Time seemed to slow as Radu appeared from the shadows and smiled at his older brother. Vlad was not amused.

"I heard the whispers, rumors, tales of your treachery," Radu's young voice cracked.

Vlad felt himself draw in a sharp breath, "I had to ally myself with Christianity, with those who fight for Christendom. Were you not blind by the sultan's ambitions, you would see the same."

Radu's body went rigid, "Do not call me incompetent, brother! I was not the one who turned against Islam! I was not the one who fled like a coward, like a dog running away with its tail tucked between its legs!"

"Is this nothing but honor to you?" Vlad raised his voice and his arms to the carnage.

Radu rolled his eyes and scoffed, "You dishonored and marred our name, our family. Your very existence further poisons the Dracul lineage. I will not let you live to taunt the Empire anymore."

The Wallachian growled and reached for his sword, "We grew up under a roof that filled our ears with beautiful scripture and books of a man so selfless, he sacrificed himself to save even the existence of his enemies. You pray to a false prophet, one that has led to much unneeded murder and bloodshed. The avarice your religion has led you to will be your undoing, my brother, make no mistake of it," Vlad shook his head.

His younger brother only gritted his teeth and reached for his own weapon, "And your need for constant bloodshed will be yours."

"And you dare call _me_ the traitor, little one," Vlad ignored him, "It was not I who turned my back to Christianity, our true and rightful religion. It was not I who deserted my family's faith, our father's, mother's, brother's faith. It was not I who stayed with our captors and betrayed, marred, and sullied our family name. No, it was you!" Vlad pointed an accusing finger at Radu.

The men both suddenly realized that they had been inching toward the other and were now within a foot length. If one had reached out, his hand would have touched the other's shoulder. But it had morphed into a match of words. It was who could beat the other in rhetoric and verbally bash the other.

Radu narrowed his eyes until they were mere slits, "If you hadn't sinned so spectacularly, then my religion and Sultan Mehmet II would not have sent punishment like me."

Vlad bowed his head mournfully, "You truly have forgotten everything our father tried to make us. Not only have you turned your back on your rightful religion, you refuse to help your only living brother bring justice to the person who ruined out lives in the first place. You no longer know who you are or what you stood for."

"Enough!" Radu spat and unsheathed his sword, "You know not what you speak! We were both destined to become Beys under the Sultan; but you abandoned me! Now, I _finally _have my chance at true justice."

Vlad twirled away from the outward thrust and punched Radu's extended elbow in an upward motion. Hearing it crack was like music to his ears, along with his brother's scream.

"How dare you fight dirty!" Radu shouted, "You shall honor me with a fair fight! I demand it!"

Vlad chuckled, "I, alone, with neither weapon nor shield, naught but my bare hands, would still be no fair fight to you, little one."

"SILENCE!" Radu slashed at Vlad once more and followed with a hilt strike to the face.

Vlad heard his nose crack and a jolt of white hot pain lanced up the nerves of his face as he instinctively reached for the wounded spot. But he quickly caught himself and dropped his hand, not wanting to expose his ribcage to Radu, nor admit that the blow had hurt him in any way. Instead, he smiled and turned his back to his younger brother, goading Radu to stab him in the back. As if to ensure that it was not a trick, Vlad started to speak venomous words.

"I still cannot believe you stayed with the Mehmet. After he had our father murdered, our brother buried alive, our mother tortured, raped, and killed," Vlad began walking away, "There are rumors that you are his plaything. Is this true, or are you simply infatuated; in love?" Vlad's eyes sparkled as he mocked a thick enthusiastic tone and turned to watch Radu's face color into a bright red.

"Do you know in which Circle of Hell you will be placed?" Radu asked, trying to control the rage in his voice.

"Ha! I'm quite fond of all nine!" Vlad retorted and whirled his sword around, gathering momentum and struck the side of Radu's helmet square in the cheek.

Radu staggered back, cradling his head and groaning in pain as the sting morphed into dull agony.

"Why do you torture yourself like this, Radu?" Vlad taunted, "You already know that I am the better swordsman. However, if you have forgotten, I am more than willing to remind you now."

"Do not flatter yourself. I have become far better trained than you," Radu let go of his head and dropped his shield. Vlad scoffed, embracing victory early when he noticed a second sword slightly grooved with a hilt, guard, and scabbard. Its basic form was clearly illustrated by the sword of Sultan Mehmet II, with its slightly curved blade that thickened at the back. Vlad recognized the style immediately.

"A _kılıç_? I haven't seen one of those in ages," Vlad smiled, impressed.

"What's better is that I know how to use it!" Radu lunged forward and clashed weapons with Vlad.

Both brothers grunted as they bashed into one another, using all of their weight to try and push the other down. They moved into a rhythm where Radu would strike and then defend himself by deflecting one of Vlad's thrusts. Then Vlad would back-step to avoid Radu slicing at him with both swords as he tried to gut his older brother like a fish. Even when Vlad did strike Radu once in the arm, his heavy chain mail made it near impossible to penetrate to his flesh.

Vlad, bemoaning his far weaker armor, let out a frustrated sigh as he remembered how the entire Hungarian army had less technological advancement than the Ottoman Empire he grew up in. For a fleeting moment, he recalled the fascinating and superior weapons he saw and used in his adolescence. He felt pity for the soldiers now fighting under his and Ladislaus's command, and how they had to settle for less equipped armor that befitted the word junk.

"My, you are truly more fragile," Radu thought the same thing, "My armor suits a battlefield. Yours looks more like the remains of what used to be armor."

"You may insult my armor to your heart's content," Vlad coated his voice in sarcastic sincerity, "But verbal jarring will only get you so far in combat."

Radu laughed, "All I need do is distract you for a moment, an instant, and then you will be–"

Vlad lunged forward again and this time hit Radu in the abdomen. The sheer force with which Vlad used to thrust the weapon into Radu made him careen backwards and into the mud of the ground.

"You mean distract you like that?" Vlad let out a satisfactory chuckle.

As if Radu were a rabbit falling prey to a fox's agility and strength, Vlad pounced on him by running forward and pushing his sword further into the wound until he saw blood begin to stream out.

Radu gasped for air as he felt the crushing blow and the following stab of pain as the sword finally hit its mark. Looking up into Vlad's eyes, Radu could see unbridled rage overcome them as he tore open the chain mail, exposing skin to the air. Radu tried to kick his brother off of him, but Vlad pinned both of Radu's hands to his back as Vlad flipped him over onto his stomach.

"You do not deserve to be formally executed, you do not deserve to face me as you die, but taste the dirt of the kingdom you invaded instead, brother. Farewell, Radu," Vlad whispered and unsheathed his portable dagger from his boot and yanked Radu's hair back, forcing his neck to bend upward.

Radu let out a soft, choked whimper, "_Brother_," he whispered, "Please…don't. You're the only family I have left…"

Vlad hesitated, sensing guilt and anguish creep up his body. Trying to shake off the emotion, he forced himself to remember the many nights he tried to save both of them by futilely escaping, and how the guards tortured him perpetually, even after he begged them to stop, praying that they would stop; crying for mercy; for anything. But Radu did nothing and fell silent at Vlad's pleas as he watched the torture. Radu fell silent every step of the way, at every turn where there was an opportunity to escape.

"Why should I spare you when you never stood up for me? You sat there next to Mehmet II as his father allowed his soldiers to torture me. You were the favored one. You were given special treatment, and now it's time for you to understand the things I had to overcome; things, until now, you were shielded from," Vlad raised the dagger to Radu's throat.

Suddenly, Vlad heard a deafening crack that burned his ears. He swayed backward and rolled from his knees onto his feet, gripping his ears the whole time. With wide eyes, Vlad whirled around to see artillerymen advance toward him from the forest, mounting what looked like small cannons onto the ground and then firing them.

"_Piyade Topçu_!" Vlad shouted and picked up his feet, racing to Hadúr as fast as he could.

In the distance, he saw another figure on a horse who had bodies of wounded officers piled onto its back end. It was galloping toward him at an alarming rate, but Vlad then recognized the rider to be Ladislaus. His face was stricken, and the look of defeat completely etched into his muscles as his shoulders sagged and form wavered out of fatigue as well. Vlad stuck one foot in his stirrup and swung his leg over and into the saddle.

"They are overwhelming us! We must retreat!" Ladislaus shouted as he rose up next to Vlad, "I have sounded the retreat. The surviving soldiers are to meet us over that hill over there."

Vlad growled at the nobleman, "You fool! Did I not specifically warn you?"

Ladislaus's face furrowed even deeper into a look of despair, "The more I think of this skirmish, the more I realize it was more of a death march, a battle that could never have been won in the first place."

Vlad reached over and grabbed the man's collar of his chest plate, "It could have been won! But you indulged into your hubris and cost us however many casualties! I told you if we had struck and then receded back over the hill like we HAD been doing, then this would never have happened. But because you had to satisfy your ego, we are now where we are, my dear Lord. Have you learned nothing of what I was trying to show you?" Vlad shook Ladislaus.

The nobleman batted Vlad's arm successfully away and shot him an angry glance, "The more we argue, the closer those men are going to get! Let us resume this conversation elsewhere, when the environment suits it!"

Both men exchanged death glares, but kicked their horses and galloped off into the grassy fields for safety.

After a minute of silent, continuous riding, Ladislaus turned to the Wallachian and added, "I truly am sorry, Vlad. My deepest regrets and apologies."

Vlad grunted in disgust, wondering how he had rehearsed that line so well and perfectly, adding just the right amount of noble coating to make it actually sound sincere. But suddenly, his thoughts wandered back to a fair Lady he had not the fortune of laying eyes on for months it seemed, and all of his anger at once diminished.

.•*´¨`*•.

Another installment.

Okay, I know some of you are angry that I have neglected to post another chapter, and all that I ask of you is not to flame if you wish to review. I know I haven't updated since like September! It's terrible! I know!

T.T

Hopefully this chapter made everything better…?

^.^

Oh! Almost forgot.

Translations

_Kılıç_ - Turkish - "Sword". But, more specifically, a type of sword whose blade was curved.

_Piyade Topçu_- Turkish - Literally "Foot artillery" or infantry artillery.


	10. Noble Composure

**A/N:** I love this fic…just saying…

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Noble Composure

"Integra?…Integra?"

The young woman opened her eyes and looked up from her kneeling position as she finished her prayer and noticed her sister nervously glancing at her.

"Yes, Seras?" Integra asked.

"W-what are we going to do?" Her eyes widened, "I mean, father has turned Sir Vlad loose on his younger brother, Radu Bey. What if Sir Vlad fails? What if he _dies_? What if he joins back with the Ottomans? Then we won't have any cards left in our hands in our favor! We _can't_ let that happen, sister!"

Integra swiftly stood up and awkwardly tried to comfort Seras. Hesitant to reveal any mothering side of herself, she settled for a few pats on the shoulder and cleared her throat, "Seras, please do not worry about anything. However it all plays out is the way God would have wanted it. We must only hope for the best."

"And prepare for the worst," Seras softly added and sighed.

They both silently agreed to push their beds together and lay atop them, just chatting to shed the time. Laying on her back, Integra perused the lazy trails of the garish tapestry and gaudy ceiling swirls of carvings and painted colors throughout the room, how they bled into each other, and the excessive never-used furniture that forever robbed her room of enough space.

All this was to ultimately show the family's wealth, and, Integra thought, what an ornamented and cheaply ostentatious way of living it was, especially without the promise of ruling something…anything. She had to sit there, and eventually wait for another man to claim her like a prize. But that was what she was: a prize to be won.

"Did you know Pip heard father and Royal Vizier, Lord Alexander Anderson, talking the other day about their plan to throw Radu Bey at Sir Vlad in the first place. They both knew all along that Radu was the commander of the army sneaking around our borders," Seras stated as she plopped onto her soft pillows and ruffled them gently with one hand.

Her older sister shook her thoughts aside and glanced at her in slight shock, "What news would a guard have? How did he hear this?"

Seras shrugged, "Castle guards are known for hearing gossip. They escort and stand with father and his many subjects as silent protectors, and we royals oft forget their presence entirely. It is assured that he would have heard something, some slice of secret information that accidentally slipped out and into the open."

Integra slowly nodded, "It would seem that they were almost scheming against Sir Vlad, but I can hardly accuse them of wrong-doing. I would need proof in order to believe that he could resist the temptation of returning to the Ottoman Empire as well."

Seras grunted, "Yes, but don't you think it's a _bit_ on the cruel side of reason?"

"…Yes…" Integra admitted, "But this act is buried within sound justification. It is well supported."

Seras nodded, "And what of Ladislaus?"

"He can definitely handle Sir Vlad, and he has an entire Hungarian army at his disposal. It's not as if Sir Vlad could convince the Christian soldiers to defect to the Ottoman Empire, and that is assuming that he wants to in the first place. No, it's one 'Ottoman' against thousands of Christians. If Sir Vlad made any trouble, he would have been executed by now, and you can be sure that we would have caught word of it as well."

"I suppose your right," Seras anxiously fidgeted with the open sleeves of her dress.

Attempting to soothe her younger sibling, Integra changed her facial expression into a polite smile, one of noble composure, reminding Seras of the fact that they needed to stay calm in the midst of any chaos thrown their way. Seras, recognizing the look, the same look their mother gave them to use as a shield when imminent trouble was approaching, reflected the expression calmly.

"You're right. We mustn't lose our heads. They will return; I'm certain of it," Seras nodded.

A light knock on the door startled the girls, but Walter opened it gently, a disarming action, and entered the room. With the way his face was already twisted into a mournful image, Integra feared the worst. In those quiet, silent moments where anticipation outweighed everything else, when the knowledge of the fate of someone was in limbo, between two worlds, neither alive nor dead, neither confirmed nor denied, the only measure by which one can assure himself not to turn to insanity is by taking a deep breath in before the plunge. Integra could hardly do that much, as she felt the air in her lungs catch in her throat.

"Well? What news?" Integra insisted.

Walter faltered, which only caused the young woman's heart to lurch forward. His already weathered face and weary eyes concealed too much of the truth from her. His hunched posture communicated to Integra that he had definitely been awake the entire night attending to her father's business. Rolling his shoulders therapeutically forward slowly and then back slowly, Walter ran a nervous hand through his wild crop of brown hair and drew in a ragged breath.

"Out with it!" she could no longer hold in her anxiety.

"My Lady," he began soothingly, "The regent-governor has sent out scouts to look for Lord Ladislaus, but to no avail. There has been no sign of them, only the trail of blood that they left behind."

"And does that trail of blood lead us somewhere?" Integra pressed.

"Unfortunately, no," Walter said and quickly checked his surroundings suspiciously, "I am here against the regent's wishes. But I could not keep avoiding you, knowing you would have, within the next few days, pinned me to a wall in order to extract any information out of me."

"She definitely would have. She was already planning it," Seras giggled. Integra shot her a reproachful glare at her secret being exposed.

Walter attempted to smile, "And I would have expected nothing less…Lady Integra, I must warn you-"

The elder sister waved a dismissive hand, "Must you always warn me of the dire and desperate times we live in? How everything is within a delicate balance and that one little misstep could cause it to tip…I know the consequences of my actions, mostly."

Walter's eye visibly twitched as he inhaled and straightened his collar, and in that moment his sanity as well, "You may note the _immediate_ consequences of your actions, but do you honestly understand the repercussions as well? Any act is like a drop of water in a pond. This drop causes the initial ripple _as well as the following ones_."

"Indeed, it does."

"Then perhaps you will consider the idea of restraining yourself from doing anything rash…oh, say, like escaping from a direct order to remain in your bed chamber and running out into the open where the soldier's pitch their tents in the hopes of finding an injured horse…" Walter bluntly stated with an edge of disdain.

Integra paused and blinked at him. He was calling her a fool for not knowing the results of her actions, like a father would a child; like a master would a servant.

Aware of her sudden turn into hostility, Walter added, "I only say this because the regent can become…_angered_ by your outbursts and it always ends up in my hands. The last thing we need is a divided family."

"_Servant_, I doubt I need lectures from anyone else today. It was enough at lunch after father lectured me on my pestering him at how to rule his Kingdom," she stated tiredly.

"And with all due respect and chivalry, you did not deserve such a lashing in my eyes," Walter added quickly, "I understand that there are many things you would change to the way he rules, and they are valid ideas."

"But when it comes to seeking justice-"

Walter hushed her lightly, "My Lady Integra, you do not need to voice Sir Vlad's injustice; he will do that on his own when he returns," Walter's eyes unfocused, as if remembering a past event that would further his point, "I believe he will want a word with the regent after his plan failed."

"Remind me to certainty: How do we know he didn't ally himself back with the Ottoman Empire?" Seras asked.

To this, Walter gave a grin, "For the reason of all of the dead Ottoman bodies he left for us to find. We know that he is heading back in our direction, and I suspect his arrival within the next few days."

"Let us pray, then, that he and Ladislaus receive a safe trip home," Integra began to kneel once more.

.•*´¨`*•.

The soft gravel sound of sword tips dragging in the dirt was enough to weigh heavy on Ladislaus's heart like an anchor to a ship. The slow moving pace of the wounded army that barely survived their own initiated attack did nothing short of embarrassing them as well. The men were exhausted from running away, the horses were exhausted for running and carrying them, and to top it off, there were neither enough weapons to defend a third of their slim numbers nor enough food to feed and give them energy to use said weapons.

And yet, their spirits were far from broken. Beaten, yes; embarrassed, yes; crushed, perhaps; but snapped in twain? Not in the slightest. They had punched a very large hole into the Ottoman's army that had attacked them, despite the fact that the Hungarians had lost more men.

Ominous clouds banked to the left of the army as they traveled back to the heart of their homeland. The beginnings of thunder reverberated the ground to where even the smallest pebbles began to shake. Lightening continued and thunder followed again as a never-ending cycle of rain commenced pouring down.

Ladislaus's armor squeaked and grinded against the cold liquid as he watched his men from atop his mount. They seemed slightly glad for the change in weather, and that the rain was quite literally washing away the blood from their hands and weapons, and consequently clearing and cleansing their minds for what they had done. Defending their own country or no, they had fought and killed men; hundreds, if not a thousand of them, and that was enough of a burden on any man's conscience.

Glancing to his right, Vlad was silently riding next to him along with the few remaining officers. Ladislaus watched as Vlad appeared to be seething in his saddle, restlessly waiting for the opportune time to give the Lord a verbal beating for what had occurred and how they could have prevented it from happening. No argument came, even after supper and during mornings when he and Ladislaus were gathering the men to start their travel back. Instead, he sat on Hadúr and seethed, probably imagining all of the ways he could tear the Lord to pieces.

Ladislaus could only guess and understood that Vlad was not half wrong. Clearing his throat, he reluctantly turned his head to the Wallachian.

"Sir Vlad…"

The man slowly turned his head to face his superior, his eyes slightly glazed over from the hours of riding, "What do you wish of me?"

The Lord hesitated, "…I gave you my sincerest apologies. My sole desire was for a quick win…but now…after the battle…I only wish I had understood that the Ottomans really did have greater numbers than us still. And the fact that they have those men who shoot those massive…what do we call them?"

"_Piyade Topç_," Vlad reiterated.

"Pardon?"

"It is the words for 'foot artillery'. They carry what you call guns, which are apparently a new thought here. The Ottoman Empire has experimented with guns, and is in works of perfecting it into a smaller carriage," Vlad clarified.

Ladislaus suddenly looked troubled, "Perfect it? You mean they have more of those…guns…? Our soldiers picked up a few from the battlefield, and I know of a few amorers who were working with gunpowder. Most of us believed them to be crazy, until I actually saw one work. Massive thing, it was. But the ones the Ottomans were carrying were smaller, more efficient."

"They are extremely dangerous, and I fear that our swords hold no candle to their artillery. Our weapons will soon grow obsolete," Vlad sighed.

Ladislaus, reminded by the sigh, cleared his throat again, "To my original point, I am sorry. And I definitely was not aware of the fact that your brother was in command of the army."

Vlad winced, causing his armor to squeak, and Ladislaus then realized what he had been thinking of and seething about this entire time: family. Something Ladislaus was also trying to avoid thinking of as well.

"He will be back. He will try to re-capture Wallachia. But perhaps they have bigger fish to catch."

"What do you mean?"

Vlad grinned absentmindedly, his eyes fixated somewhere in the distance, "We are not the only territory they wish to claim. For longer than I care to remember, the Ottoman Empire has had their sights on Constantinople. And last I was commander I remember hearing them amassing more reinforcements."

"You don't think-" Ladislaus's eyes grew wide.

"I _know_ they are capable of anything, my Lord. In the case of will against numbers, sheer numbers always wins in the end. Even you know this now," The man shook his head sadly.

But suddenly, Vlad's eyes snapped to a figure on the ridge of a hill in front of what was left of the army. The person was on a horse, and one of his hands was holding something tall…a flag…bearing the Hungarian coat of arms. A massive wave of relief washed over both men as they smiled in utter glee. They were home, or close to it.

It seemed to have been months since they caught sight of the familiar castle, the hilltop and bridge, and the moat forming with the spring rains. The rider galloped for them as men cheered, waving his flag proudly with a smile. The remnants of the army raced for him as well, throwing hats in the air and flailing their arms as they embraced one another. Ladislaus rode to the man with Vlad on his flank, and they opened their hands to shake.

"My Lord! You are alive and well! The Kingdom has been praying for your safety!" the scout bowed his head in recognition.

"Rejoice, my friend! We have returned. The castle is not far now," Ladislaus laughed as he bowed his head in thanks.

"Just over the next hill," the scout pointed and neck-reined his horse in the direction, "The regent will be pleased to hear of your arrival."

The men shouted in an uproar that made the horses skittish, but the Lord could hardly blame them. They had finally returned after hunted and being hunted for too long with nary a respite. The Hungarian warriors rejoiced and began to dance and sing along their short way back. It had been too long since the Lord had seen his men happy.

He may have been nobility, and for all of his bravado to maintain the upper hand from a certain Wallachian, he ultimately did not rule; he served. He served his people. True altruism could not have defined it better. His people's happiness was his own, their troubles were his troubles, their triumphs were his triumphs. He really was a servant to his people, the only difference being a title, a name. And there was nothing he ever wanted more than to serve and protect.

Once the army cleared the last hill, they caught sight of the familiar castle walls, and tried to race each other to the gates. Ladislaus laughed as he kicked his horse forward and went bounding off. Men fell out of their ranks, dropped everything, and made a mad dash for the castle. Nothing could have made the spectacle any sweeter in Vlad's eyes.

And yet he was the only one not running to the fortress of safety. He kept his horse at a walk, and watched the men become mere ants as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance. No doubt, he was incredibly happy for them, but a certain emptiness filled him as he watched his own men shout the name of their homeland in such love and devotion.

The Wallachian sighed as he remembered that he had no home. Yes, Wallachia was within Christian power, but with another man on the throne. An undeserving man. A man who was, in fact, more a puppet than a ruler. Turmoil boiled inside of Vlad's veins as he desperately searched for an identity to clutch onto, someone or something to connect himself to, something that would replace the gap within and give him a reason to continue forward.

He tried to find anything inside of him that could help stabilize the growing rage he felt for Hungary and the fact that at every corner she continued to distrust him. But the only thing that kept fueling his desire to rule under a Christian banner one day was the increasing ire he felt, as though the world were playing a massive and unwanted joke on him. No matter what he did, whether it was give advice to the ruler of Hungary or join their ranks as captain, he was still branded as an Ottoman and was refused to be trusted.

Everywhere he turned, there was nothing but betrayers, and he branded traitor as well. A part of him knew that his teachings in Edirne would always be with him, that he would continue to use the skills he learned there, and that it had spared his life on more than one occasion. It even felt like justice that he would use what he learned under Ottoman reign against them. But even Vlad knew that Hungary could not be trusted, and there was apparently nothing he could do that would convince them otherwise.

Vlad awoke from his thoughts at the sound of the main gate rising to let the men in. Trailing in the back, he waited, and glanced up at the enormous defense towers.

"I've had enough betrayal for one life, my ruler," Vlad growled bitterly, and proceeded to walk past the drawbridge, "Prepare to answer _my_ questions now, especially the ones concerning your set-up trap."

.•*´¨`*•.

Filler chapter, but I wanted to do another piece on Vlad and Ladislaus, since it's technically the last time they will be working together, unless I find something. But then, who knows.

Oooo next chapter is gonna be heated! I can sense a shouting match, perhaps? A drawing of swords? A duel? Perhaps all three? I haven't made up my mind yet.

After this battle (which, to my knowledge, was the creation of my own mind), Vlad really becomes Hunyadi's advisor. Hehe, Anderson is gonna LOVE this.


	11. Increasing Ire

**A/N:** Heeeeez ya sec'nd chapter update! The breaking scenes are meant to spice it up a bit.

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Increasing Ire

The regent slouched in his seat in the main dining hall as he heard his royal advisor rant on and on. The days seemed to grow longer than normal, as if God himself was slowly trying to suck the life out of him. His eyes glazed over as he expertly tuned Anderson out; that man had a way of talking a royal's ear off in ten minutes, to the point where the regent would rather strip down to his undergarments, wear the belt of his sheathed sword around his head, wear his socks for gauntlets, douse the throne room in oil, and threaten to set it all aflame as he danced around like a mad man. The idea was certainly more entertaining that sitting in a chair, albeit lovely decorated and cushioned with soft padding, and hearing an advisor drone on and on.

"Alexander, when are you going to get to your point? I have other meetings to attend to about the war on the frontier," the regent groaned as he attempted to sit back up.

Anderson turned around from pacing to the other side of the room, suddenly snapping out of his perfect and ideal world to reality and realized how foolish he must have looked, "I apologize, my Lord. Of course. It seems as though our soldiers along the border are keeping the Ottomans out. Wallachia is holding as well, though how long that will last…Lord Vladislav II states that he needs more soldiers placed in Wallachia if they are to survive…"

The regent's frown deepened as his hand reflexively tightened on his armrest, "I sense you are trying to slow-walk me to an important realization. Care to jump to it?"

Anderson cleared his throat softly and smiled awkwardly, "Highness…would you consider perhaps another alternative, since we do not have many reinforcements?"

"Such as?" the regent tipped his head forward and opened the palm of his hand, awaiting an example that would fit in his grasp.

"For example…perhaps a…hired…army…?" Anderson dragged.

"You mean mercenaries?" the regent felt himself rise from his seat, "Hired hands to execute and destroy?"

"I–"

"Soulless men with eyes only for heavy amounts of coin, whose lifestyles are ones of burning and pillaging and no atonement at the end of their long journey, festering with duplicity that it reeks of evil, malice, and wrong-doing?"

Anderson visibly swallowed and nervously tugged at the sleeves of his clothing, "Whether or not you believe it, see it, or consent to its existence, my Lord, we do not have enough able bodies. The Ottomans are too strong. If we cannot find a way to defend our country, then we must start pulling civilians into our army."

The regent chuckled this time, "Fear not, my advisor. You look so nervous, as if you will soon stare Death in the face."

Anderson nervously answered with a chuckle, "Well, when your looking into the face of thousands of Ottomans, one can only wonder if that be his death."

"I have proven my military competence. Do you not remember Semendria, or Iron Gates? As a boy, do you not remember hearing of the undaunted Johan Huniad, fearless leader of Hungary? Called forth to be Regent-governor after the untimely death of Władysław III of Varna? King of Hungary?" the regent's eyes sparkled proudly at the memories that now flooded back into his mind.

"Yes, my Lord, how could I forget?" Anderson said with great lackluster as he absent-mindedly shuffled to the nearest seat in the room, preparing for a full-blown fairy tale story of his superior racing circles around baffled pashas and marching home victoriously against incredible odds.

"Oh, would you indulge an old man?" the regent instantly felt his advisor's somber aura.

"My Lord, it isn't that I don't partake in feeling joy every time I hear the tales of you. I only feel concern because it is the very battle of Varna that you nearly did not escape, from which you then became our ruler. Very luckily, I might add," Anderson rubbed his temples in a circular motion to ease his growing headache.

"Varna was years ago, Alexander. Need I remind you that we could have won –_should_ have won– had the king more sense than a dead pigeon," the regent's voice sharpened, "No one was to attack the Janissaries until I gave the order."

Anderson felt himself raise both of his hands, exposing he had no weapons against the man in front of him, "My Lord, I completely agree. It is because of certain…commands in the past that we suffer now. Our…choices…will reflect back on us when the consequences of them unearth."

"Indeed, which is why we must be all the more careful than to blithely discuss the accommodations of a mercenary army," the regent shook his head disapprovingly, "I fear no one, not even Bogdan would help us now."

"Yes, I heard as well. Moldavia is in civil war," Anderson stated mournfully, Not that they would help us anyway, after we heard of their secret dealings with the Ottomans. Is there any country that can resist ruling under the support of the Ottomans? "We truly are alone in this fight…"

"Not quite. We have Bogdan's nephew to thank for our good fortune," the regent grinned as he stood up from his seat.

Anderson felt his teeth grind against his jaw, "That…_boy_…ensures nothing, my Lord, if not insinuating trouble."

The regent laughed, "Come now, you don't mean to say that Vlad has some sort of quarrel against Hungary? All we did was assist in killing his father and in allowing him to be dragged to Edirne for years of imprisonment."

The Royal Vizier's frown deepened, "Do I hear guilt in your voice, Sir?"

He straightened his royal garments, "Not. At. All. What you see here is an eager man who will take whatever and whoever he can if it might help fight the war against Islam. My friend, did you not just make my case after spewing all of those fancy words of there being no army left to fight?"

"I didn't mean to resort to allowing _Ottomans_ into the ranks, my Lord," Anderson stood up as well and walked to the edge of the steps.

"We must and shall accept him. He is our eyes and ears out on the battlefield. Not only does he speak Turkish fluently, he knows their techniques, their battle strategies, and their weaknesses. Someone with that kind of knowledge cannot be turned away," the regent walked down to the edge of the steps and stared back at his advisor, a hand resting on the stubble of his chin.

Anderson stewed in his mind for a moment, considering stating something further. Just when he was about to speak his mind, both men turned to the window and listened quietly.

"…Did you hear that?" the advisor asked dubiously.

"It…it sounded like…cheering…" the regent stated in disbelief, as if he heard instead a whistle in the wind.

But suddenly fanfare played loudly on trumpets, welcoming home soldiers. The loud public display of the short announcing tune caused the regent to fly to the window and cast his gaze downward to the bridge. A grin split his lips as he watched his men make passage across and into the citadel safely. A peaceful quiet consumed his body as he recognized his son leading the army on top of his horse, bloodied and beaten, but not broken. Pride wracked his body as he gripped the side stone wall and turned back around slowly.

"They have returned!" Anderson stated with shocked doubt.

"Then I shall prepare for the debriefing. Ladislaus has much to report to me," the regent masked his joy expertly, swished his cape up, and began to march back to his room.

Anderson smiled, knowing he was secretly happy at the arrival of his son. The advisor smiled as he sighed and exited the room to leave his ruler alone in his preparations. Closing the massive double doors, he nodded to both guards on either side and shrugged his cloak back on. A loud noise caught his attention as shouts from down the hall seemed to emanate from the walls. Curious, both Anderson and the guards looked at each other and began to make their way across.

Fists punching one another followed as more and more men shouted until the clack and clank of armor hitting ground rang through Anderson's ears. His heart began to beat at an alarming rate as he soon considered the idea of an assassin breaking into the castle. Reaching for his knife, he motioned for the guards to remain behind him. Pushing off with his left foot, he whirled around the corner and straight into the breastplate of a soldier. Anderson felt his head crack forward against the metal as he then reeled back in pain. Rubbing his forehead, his eyes slowly came into focus as he narrowed them at the man.

"_You_," Anderson stated accusingly, "You weren't supposed to return."

Vlad smiled politely, slightly bowing as a mocking gesture, "And, as you will come to know me, I defy all odds."

The advisor straightened his posture to match Vlad's and glanced around the intruder. A row of incapacitated guards lay on the ground, twisted and mangled-looking with broken bones and toppled over on one another mixed with broken glass, windows, crates, and armor. Sighing and shaking his head in slight sorrow and disappointment, Anderson felt his armed hand twitch.

"My, you caused quite a scene there," the advisor stated with weight, noticing that the soldier was unarmed, "Punishment is in order."

"I could tell you that they tried to strike me first, but you would not believe me," Vlad squared his shoulders, refusing to back away, "I only seek an audience with the Regent. I have a right to hear him answer for what he's done."

Anderson exploded into fits of laughter, clutching his side for support, "The Regent answers to no one. He has received the Divine Right from the previous ruler. His powers come from God himself. You are merely a pawn."

"Pawns, if placed properly, can defeat even kings," Vlad inched closer, daring the first strike out of Anderson.

"If you wish to get to my king, pawn, then you shall have to get through me first," The advisor said with deadly finality as he blocked the hallway and motioned for the guards to place themselves on either side of him.

Rolling his eyes disrespectfully, Vlad scoffed, "Alright then. Hardly a fair fight."

"HEATHEN!" Anderson shouted as he stepped forward and jabbed his knife into the closest kink in Vlad's armor.

"_This won't be necessary_," a loud voice echoed from around the corner. The regent stepped from the shadows and into the hallway, his lavishly decorated cape dragging gracefully behind him.

Both guards instantly stood aside to let the man through. He walked slowly, methodically, as he approached the two fighting men who were now frozen in mid-act at his demand. As the old man stopped right in front of them, Anderson retracted his knife and Vlad released his hand from Anderson's cloak. The ruler's face seemed wistful, teeming with wisdom and knowledge beyond anyone's comprehension. In one look, both saw the stupidity and juvenile way they had acted. The advisor stepped to the side with his dignity slightly exposed and wounded.

"Alexander, you know better than to lower yourself to violence," the regent softly chided; he then turned to the battered Wallachian, "And Sir Vlad, I thought your silver tongue could talk its way out of this unnecessary fight."

Vlad folded his arms across his chest indignantly, "Discourse is appropriate until the point civility gives way to insults, and then a ready fist must serve as a gentleman's closing statement." *

The regent grinned at that comment, "Indeed, you're quite correct."

"Then curse me for guarding our one ruler," Anderson stated harshly as he fit his knife in his belt, "I thought my Lord would be pleased that I did not simply allow this cretin to pass uninspected. Peruse the hallway, Sir, and you shall see the carnage he created on the way here."

"I have seen enough to know that this man deserves some answers. After all, there is a certain give-and-take dance with your ally in which you must partake to keep everything balanced," the regent softly countered and motioned for Vlad to follow him.

Anderson began to trail behind when his ruler stopped him abruptly, "Alexander, since you are so eager to protect your ruler, might I suggest reporting to Pip to see if there are any troubles within the castle?"

The advisor's eyes widened in shock, but he bit down a salty insult that was ready at his lips, "If it pleases, right away, my Lord." With a bitterly strained bow, he turned on his heels vengefully and left the hallway.

.•*´¨`*•.

"Ladislaus!" Seras screamed as she stood up from the castle bench and made a mad dash for him.

"Whoa, Seras! Don't tackle m–"

She threw herself onto him at full speed, almost knocking him over as his towering body swayed, desperately trying to regain balance. Tears were in her eyes as she lifted her head up and let out a choked laugh.

"Sorry. We're both so happy you came back! We prayed and prayed for your safety! It paid off!" She shouted in glee and turned to face her advancing older sister.

Integra smiled, slowly preserving the pause and storing it into her memory forever, "Seras was worried most of all."

Ladislaus bowed his head, "You're a lovely image to contrast all of this fighting and death around us. You both look well…I…I missed you too."

"We were so worried that you would get injured, especially since father sent that Wallachian to fight with you," Seras blurted out, though regretting the moment she said it.

The air seemed to cool ten degrees at the mention of that man, and Ladislaus's body instantly went rigid. Integra could sense his angst and sensitivity to the topic, but what surprised her to every extent was when his glare intensified as it locked with her eyes. He let go of Seras and walked his way over to Integra, his dominating body language screaming pent up anger to her. She instinctively tried to look disarming, but he already had reached for her arm.

"Integra," Ladislaus's voice sounded like a fork scratching along a metal plate, "Come with me; I have much to discuss with you and your apparent befriending choices."

She stood, torn between ripping her arm out of his grasp and shouting at him there. But she reasoned that a more private setting would benefit her cause. There, she could convince him quietly, in private, rather than making a scene in public. Politely, she nodded and followed his lead into the nearest room, but not without sending her younger sister a menacing scowl.

Hastily opening the large wooden door, it grinded against its hinges in protest. Both entered and Ladislaus reluctantly released her arm. Integra instantly walked away from him and further into the long room. It took her a moment to realize that they were in the larder. Spices, salt, sweets, and meat were stored in neat packs folded tightly and stacked along in shelves across the large room. The stench was a little more than Integra had hoped for, but she brushed off her disgust as easily as shrugging a shoulder.

Ladislaus peeked outside the door once more and then shut it just as quickly. He paused with his back turned to her, took in a deep breath, and prayed that he would not lose his temper for what he was about to discuss with her. But no matter his feelings on the situation, it had to be addressed. He turned around, trying to conceal his bubbling rage inside and took a step forward to her.

.•*´¨`*•.

The regent entered back into his private room. Vlad, following silently, noticed the massive table in the middle with scrolls of paper overlapping one another; no doubt battle plans amended this way and that; tailored to the continuously incoming messages. The regent grunted as he pushed them aside, placing both hands tiredly on the table and allowing his shoulders to droop as they were only supported by locked arms. Vlad sensed the seasoned warriors weariness and decided to try and seem as pleasant as possible. One quick remark and he could be sent back to the dungeons solely based on the man's temper at that moment. Vlad strayed behind the Regent out of politeness, only seeing his backside, and noting the lack of swelling character and boastful confidence the regent had once carried with him. Concern coated The Wallachian's face for a brief moment, but the expression melted away just as quickly as the regent turned around to face him.

"You come into my castle with one thing on your mind: answers," the regent stated softly, to Vlad's amazement.

"You're…you're not even slightly angered…" Vlad felt his face frown as he shifted to rest on one foot.

The regent inhaled deeply, "In my line of work, one cannot present anger as a means of communication to an already angered person. It would not alleviate, but rather exacerbate the tension, nor would it solve any of the problems that needed to be fixed. You must reason with the person, you must compromise, and you must learn the motions of giving and taking as I said earlier."

Vlad felt his anger towards the man all but diminish, "I…I am surprised you…rule that way…not many people I have met would compare in the slightest to how you reason, my Lord."

"It's refreshing, isn't it?" the regent grinned smugly, "Perhaps it is because I was first and foremost a commanding general to our army, and then a 'royal leader' figure, if you will."

Vlad now couldn't suppress a smile from escaping, "Indeed…"

His superior cleared his throat and tugged at the long cape that adorned his back as it flowingly splayed outward to the ground, "But you have come to discuss business, not to indulge in stroking a man's pride. Come, tell me what happened; I have yet to see Ladislaus report to me."

"In all honesty, Sir, I would much prefer it if you heard it from his lips," Vlad averted his eyes under the man's calculating expression, "I have come to discuss the officer who commanded the Ottoman army."

"Ah," the regent nodded, "You seem to forget that you are simply a captain in my ranks, due to nothing but my support."

"Of course, but I must ask why you had not informed me of the fact that my brother was their leader," Vlad locked his gaze back on the man.

A pause too great filled the room, one that made the younger ever angrier once more.

"He is clearly not just another Ottoman to you, then," the regent folded his arms across his broad chest.

"Decidedly not," Vlad shook his head vehemently, "He is far worse in my eyes. He not only turned his back on my family, Christianity, and his homeland, but also turned against the Order of the Dragon –my sole purpose for being."

.•*´¨`*•.

"Ladislaus–"

"Don't," the noble closed his eyes, shut tight.

Integra sat there, deprived of her right to speak and too scared to defend her cause. The thought of him striking her frightened her, but seeing him as rigid as un-carved stone made that thought come alive. Instead, she braced herself against the shelves of food and watched.

"You…you have been seeing a certain member who shouldn't even belong to our army," Ladislaus controlled his voice with a vice grip, though it wavered.

"It–"

"I said be silent," Ladislaus warned as his blue eyes grew darker.

Integra fell silent once more.

"Now, news of your 'exchanges' has reached my ears, and I will tell you this: I will not allow you to share pleasantries with this man nor anything else. It was difficult enough to stay silent as you defended his cause for living and not being executed, but now you speak with him? Alone, no less?" Ladislaus leaned on one of the shelves as well and placed his arm to rest atop one of the rows of salt.

Integra paused, until she realized through a gesture on his part that she was allowed to speak.

"Then your informers are selling you fallacious rumors," Integra raised her chin, "I have only run into him _in passing_ down at the stables in the courtyard once. I have shared nothing with him and we were certainly not alone."

"Then you were in the consent of someone else then? Perhaps Walter?" Ladislaus's expression lighted into premature relief.

Integra panicked. Mentally, she paused before she could blurt anything out. If she said no, telling the truth, it would get her into a whirlwind of more trouble than she was already knee-deep in; but if she lied, then she knew Ladislaus would, sooner or later, and hopefully later, ask Walter what she and Vlad had talked about. Walter disliked Vlad, yes, but knowing that her dignity was on the line, he would stick his neck out for her. She was certain of this.

A little too certain.

"Yes, Ladislaus, Walter was with me," Integra stated with reassurance, "He was helping me tend to Hadúr's wounds."

.•*´¨`*•.

"'Far worse in my eyes'…I'm curious, did you see him on the battlefield?" the regent questioned.

"I did."

"So you killed him then."

Vlad averted his eyes once more, "I was about to when the Ottoman's foot artillery arrived to save them from their own judgment."

The regent's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "How _convenient_."

In response, Vlad narrowed his eyes, "I assure you, my Lord, had I known that Radu was leader of the army, I would have been able to tell you how armed and dangerous they were. However, my leader saw fit in omitting that little fact at the briefing before Ladislaus and I left."

"With sound reason," the regent added with an edge to his voice, "No matter your motives now in supporting this country, Radu is first and foremost you blood. You cannot run away from that. What you can do is eliminate it. I gave you a chance at proving yourself worthy to fight amongst our ranks as a soldier of Christendom. Nothing could draw the line of trust any better than to kill your own brother for The Order. If I had warned you, I know you would have privately objected, and do not tell me otherwise."

Vlad bared his teeth angrily, "I would have, but that does not mean I would have countermanded that order, that I would have not done it. I would still have executed your order in killing him."

"I could not risk that chance. The army was headed our way, and I needed to figure out if you meant your word," the regent stated with finality.

"I am not a person of idle promises, my Lord. I stick to my word," Vlad clenched his fists and began to breathe heavily in anger.

The regent looked at him passively, noting the change in posture and his threatening and exposed glare. The young man had so much anger in him, he didn't even know what to do with it. Perhaps, the regent thought, perhaps he should stay within the castle walls where he could keep an eye on him. He was more useful in the castle as it was, what with informing him of tactics and strategies of what the Ottomans did. After such a negative response received, the regent suddenly wondered if he should not tempt Vlad by forever surrounding him with Ottomans.

"However, you would be much more useful to me alive than dead…" the regent then thought aloud, confusing Vlad.

.•*´¨`*•.

"Very well," Ladislaus answered, only half-believing her story, "Then I shall make a proposal to you: stay away from him, and I'll let this little mishap go unnoticed by our father. But, if I hear that you have been sneaking around to speak with him, which, I honestly would not put past you, then the first person I shall inform will be father."

"I have nothing to hide," Integra bluffed, "He is one soldier in a sea of many more to me. _Nothing_ more."

The noble scoffed at her surefootedness, "It couldn't be that difficult as it is because he will most likely be forever away at war with me against the Ottomans. A fool and a disgrace to our family would only be able to keep bumping into him, understand?"

"Completely," Integra nodded, however begrudgingly. Nevertheless, she presented a happy and cheerful face.

.•*´¨`*•.

"What are you proposing?" Vlad pressed with a stern gaze, his mind coming up with wild and radical ideas as to where his superior was leading him.

The regent slowly moved around the large table in a rhythmic pacing motion, "I shall make a proposal to you: stay in the castle and give your orders here. You would be of much more value to me alive here, where it is safe, than out there against the Ottomans. We need your military expertise and first-hand knowledge here, where I can see you."

Vlad blinked a couple times and pressed his index fingers to his ears, "Forgive me, I think I did not hear you correctly. Did you say you wish for me to _stay?_"

The regent continued circling his table of scrolled maps, "You heard me correctly."

"Here?" Vlad tilted his head in confusion, "Here. _Here_?"

His leader laughed as he paused to look at the soldier, "Is it so hard to believe that I want you where I can use you best?"

"Here? In the castle? Where I am idle? Not out with the men fighting?" Vlad continued in shock.

"As my advisor, Sir Vladislaus," the regent slowly walked over to the young man and placed a large and calloused hand on his shoulder, "You will be treated and cared for here. In return, you are allowed separate quarters, private, only for you, and you will report to me daily to discuss strategies in thwarting the Ottomans."

Vlad glanced at the intrusive but slightly paternal gesture and smiled, "My Lord, my math might be off, but the last time I checked, I met your advisor moments before outside in the hallway."

The regent lightly squeezed Vlad's shoulder, "You did, but he is neither soldier nor initiate to the Order. You shall be my second advisor."

"So let it be," Vlad agreed with a handshake, "May I choose a room for my own liking?" He asked curiously, a sudden excitement crowding his senses.

The regent opened his arm to the door, "Certainly. You may decide which room is to your liking. I will have a guard escort you to the different rooms. Guard!"

.•*´¨`*•.

"Perfect," Ladislaus cracked his neck and straightened his stature, "Then I shall go and attend to my father's business. He will want my full report of the battles. I should head out before he conjures up an insane plan that only he sees will work."

Integra bowed her head reflexively and watched him easily open the latch to the door. Before she could say anything further, he was out of the room and heading up the nearest set of stairs to the upper levels. Shaking her head, she sighed and closed the door.

"What an idiot," she whispered, "I am no fool. Sir Vlad initiated the conversation; I did not seek him out, nor would I ever," Integra stated a little too proudly.

Snorting indignantly, she quietly walked back to her room. She passed the myriad number of windows along the way with beautiful glass and window-seats where one could sit and enjoy the pouring rays of sunshine throughout the day. Most of them on the lower levels amounted to nothing more than a recess that was cut into the thickness of the wall where, behind, an arrow loop was a vertical wedge-shaped space designed to give an archer more flexibility in aiming his bow. But the ones near the top were wide and protected by an iron grille. They could even be closed off by wooden shutters.

She paused by one and gazed out at the horizon of hills that surrounded her home. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and simply concentrated on the soft heat she felt given to her from the sun. The sensation was comforting as she felt its warmth seep past her dress until she could even feel it on her stomach and legs. Her breathing slowed to nothing as she wished to do nothing but open the window and fly out, out into the sky and far away. She imagined being a bird, cage-less, wild, free, and soaring across the rolling hills.

Integra smiled and opened her eyes. Slightly crestfallen as she remembered the bars on the windows and the glass that prevented her from freedom, she sighed, disappointed, and turned around to head further into the castle. And electric shock bolted through her body and veins as she saw Vlad standing there, watching her.

"My Lord!" She exclaimed and instantly controlled her breathing, "What possessed you into thinking it was appropriate to watch me like a deranged person?"

Taken aback at her sudden hostility, Vlad was slightly shocked that, moments before, she looked akin to an angel, "My apologies, my Lady. I meant to inform you of my presence, but you looked so…"

"So what?" Integra's glare cut into him.

Vlad smiled wistfully, "You looked like you had found freedom in that moment, and I would be the last person to deprive you of it."

Integra felt herself involuntarily smile at that comment. The comfort that adorned his face was crushingly attractive. Her muscles began to relax and her heart rate returned to a steady pace, though still elevated. How could he know that? How could he read her so well? Was she that obvious, or was he once in her same position? She shook all of her thoughts and decided to ignore them, adopting a different idea altogether. Following her instincts. And once she realized that she had accepted this, Integra sensed an exhilarating feeling rise within her, one that she wished not to curb.

The young Lady lifted her arm to him, and he reflexively reached for it, bringing her hand to his lips, and kissing the top of her hand. This time, she let him keep the moment longer before she retracted her arm.

.•*´¨`*•.

*that was from a comment-response that Duane said on Formspring from _Unsounded_.

Hehehe Yes. Yes. Yes. More AxI.

Updated two chapters! This author would LOVE to hear some comments from her reviewers! *hint*


	12. Frailty

**A/N:** Ah, thank you kindly for the reviews I got. I know I don't get many, and that's why I cherish each one as feedback. Not much to say, really...other than this update. Oh, well my birthday is coming up ^.^

QUESTION: To someone who speaks Hungarian, does hercegnő mean princess or duchess? I looked it up, and I think it's supposed to mean duchess, but I've now seen it used both ways. I mean for it to be duchess, so please tell me if there is a better word to use.

In this one, we get to see Integra's weaknesses a bit. I like the flashbacks to her father and her talking about vampires in the manga, and in here you see the little girl still present underneath all of the layers of a growing young Lady.

~I know she would have you think that she is un-crushable, but there _are_ a few who can humble her~

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Frailty

There was a pleasant pause in which both Vlad and Integra did not know who should be the first to speak. He chuckled softly as he heard Integra clear her throat in an obvious attempt to refocus her attention.

"Y-you have returned," Integra captioned the obvious, and by Vlad's open smile, she closed her eyes, realizing how foolish that had sounded.

"I'm glad you noticed," He played and looked her over covertly as her eyes were closed.

She looked astonishingly beautiful with her hair braided in soft curling waves, and how one stubborn curl sprung free from its coil to dangle right in front of her face, taunting him to reach out and place it back behind her ear or to run it back into the thick ropes of her braids with his fingers. It took more strength than he imagined to keep his hands at his sides, and just when Vlad had formed a sentence in his head to start the conversation, he lost it as she looked up into his eyes and laughed, her eyes slightly rolling dramatically as she could read his face all too well.

"...I know you must think this preposterous, but my brother…" Integra paused awkwardly, "My brother…"

"Lord Ladislaus…" Vlad continued for her, already knowing what would be said would be chosen with delicately placed words.

Integra nodded, "Yes…he…he foolishly believes that…" her face colored slightly as she checked around her suspiciously, "…I need to leave," she picked up a corner of her dress and began to walk proudly off.

Vlad inhaled her scent as she walked past him hastily. He refused to believe that he should let her go without further explaining what she had already begun to say. Vlad knew it would be rude of him to insist on hearing the rest of it, but it was even more rude of her to tease him like that.

He turned on his heels, "My Lady, what have I done to cause such a negative response within you?"

He was ever thankful that she paused, but she refused to turn around and face him.

"You must realize that I have to keep a clean life within the castle, as it is expected. I must not…" Integra bowed her head shamefully, "I must not lower myself to spending time with every man in the hallway that I see. It would not be appropriate, and it certainly would not be conducive to my good health."

"You think my intentions toward you are carnal in nature?" Vlad questioned, his eyes now fixated on her sharply.

Integra turned around and met his harsh gaze, shocked that he would say such a thing aloud, "As you will come to learn, it does not matter. One poor rumor bouncing around could…it could sully an innocent reputation…could put people one cares about in danger, along with the couple's own danger of exposure."

Vlad chuckled, "Are you always this rational when it comes to men?"

"I have to be clear," Integra insisted, "Else it would leave ambiguity as a welcome friend, always visiting my doorstep."

Vlad dared to walk slowly up to her and soften his gaze, only focusing on the fact that her eyes looked deeper than the bluest sapphire he had once found in the sand as a child, "I only feel loyalty to the one who saved my life. If that is wrong of me, then say the word and I shall never speak to you again, my Lady. I only wish to please my liberator."

"I…" Integra lost all form of an argument as his polished manner and smooth voice covered her in shivers. He leaned in so far that their shoulders almost touched. She had never been quite so close to a man before, other than Walter; but that was for the occasional hug. His deep, rhythmic breathing slowed her heart down, but his eternal grin played with its every beat. Within her last bit of self-restraint, Integra reminded herself that there was one step she was unwilling to take: and that was to look up into his eyes; that act would present far too many choices for him to use against her. The farthest she allowed herself to feel was the warmth radiating from his body. It seeped through his armor and served a great contrast to the chilling winds that were picking up; but Integra caught her body from visibly trembling, "I will not allow such manipulation!"

She shook herself, breaking the trance, and recoiled away from him. Integra nearly regretted the act as she saw Vlad's face sink to a look of sadness. It was obvious that she had injured his feelings, but she had to inform him of the consequences.

"I would never intend to hurt you–" Integra started.

"Nor I you," Vlad cut in.

"–but for my country. I have no choice. I must do what I am told," She finished sternly.

"You _always_ have a choice, my Lady," Vlad stated fervently.

She began to walk once more, declining to continue that topic, "In any case, I bid you goodbye and farewell. I'm sure my father has another battle for you to command with my brother. You best report to him now."

Vlad rolled his aching neck and shoulders, "I think not. the regent has given me the opportunity to remain in the castle as his advisor."

Integra tripped on a protruding stone in the hallway and felt her dress tear. The noise of the fabric splitting in half expressed her failing nerves completely at that moment. She gathered it up quickly and whirled around to face him again, in the process getting slightly dizzy, "You what? He _what_?"

Her clumsiness forced a smile out of him he could no longer suppress, "He wishes for me to stay in the castle. Though, by the looks of it, you are less than content with that idea…"

"Merely caught off guard," Integra was fast to correct, "Your news carries weight. It's just…" Integra remembered Ladislaus stating that Vlad would be away at war with him, and how easy it would be to avoid Vlad.

"I see…" Vlad nodded abruptly, his tone suggesting he could read her face as if it were a book placed in front of him, and bowed, signifying the end of their short conversation, "You think me better off completely away from you. On the battlefield. I see it now."

The young Lady's heart began to beat faster, "N-no. I thi–"

Vlad raised a hand, to which Integra flinched, "It is the same look that every Hungarian gives me. That look of disgust, repulsion, and severe disdain. That I am not worthy of your time, that I should remain in the dungeon I was put in at the very least."

"You are placing malicious and indirect words in my mouth," Integra raised her voice as she noticed a guard and a woman walking toward them.

"Then explain to me what you want," Vlad asserted, his body stiffening in anger, "Tell me what you wish of me, and I will do it!"

The guard, now recognized by Integra as Pip, noticing the argument, jogged over, his footsteps clacking against the hard stone floor as the bow on his back swayed side to side. He placed his hand on top of his scabbard and reached one hand out to Vlad. The woman strayed behind to look as invisible as possible but tried to get Integra's attention.

"There you are! You managed to slip away from me! You know the regent wanted me to escort you to your room. He can't trust you by yourself," Pip grabbed a hold of Vlad's shoulder plate and gave it a tug.

"Treated like a pet, I am…dragged around like this," Vlad whispered so softly, only Integra heard him.

"Come on then," Pip pointed to the end of the hallway, "My Lady, has he been bothering you?"

Integra did not break eye contact, "To no end."

Vlad shot her a look of betrayal.

"_But_…" The young woman ripped her stare away, "It was nothing I could not handle."

"My Lady," The older woman finally spoke up after Integra forgot she was present, "There is no time. We must prepare you with the good news."

Integra frowned and looked the older woman over. No doubt her beautiful black dress that was slightly tattered suggested that she was a little wealthier than a maid, but not wealthy enough to be…

Loredana magyar hercegnő? One of the most beautiful duchesses in all of Hungary, until her fiancée Stefan, a duke, fell ill not two years ago? She looked much different since the last time Integra had seen her. She looked, older, weaker, almost as if the death of her beloved and the absence of his love had sucked the life from her. It near disgusted Integra to realize how dependent she was on a man, and made a mental promise never to allow that to happen.

"Loredana hercegnő, what a pleasant surprise!" Integra exclaimed, "What news do you bring?"

She giggled slightly in anticipation as she curtsied formally, "Your mother returns from her long journey from nobleman Mihály Szilágyi with news of your engagement! I am one of the ladies-in-waiting who will be taking care of you, my dear! Now we must get you dressed for your mother's arrival, and your father wants to speak with you right away as well! We must hurry hurryhurryhurry!"

Integra's jaw dropped and her heart stopped.

_What_. _Just_. _Happened_.

Her mother was returning after such a long visit with her uncle.  
>Integra was getting married.<br>And Loredana was a Lady-in-waiting.

"_WHAT_?" Integra jerked her head back in utter disbelief as she tried to force herself to breathe, "What did you say?"

"My dear!" Loredana fluttered over soundlessly and gripped Integra's shoulders, "Has your father neglected in telling you this? He must be busier than I had thought."

Integra held up a hand, "Wh-what did you say? I'm getting _married_? To whom? Where from? Who told you this? Why was I not informed? Why wasn't I asked for my opinion?_You must be mistaken_!" She laughed nervously until she felt her chest tighten as if a metal band was choking the life out of her. Instinctively, Integra reached for her throat and out for the stone wall in support as her vision began to blur suddenly.

"Yes! It's such exciting news! We must get you back to your room," Loredana suspiciously glanced at Vlad, "And back to safety, I might add. Nothing but trouble, this man."

Vlad raised his eyebrow at her and grinned flirtatiously, "What _ever_ do you mean?" His tone mocked innocence as his eyes slowly, hungrily looked the Lady over and watched her face redden.

"Ever since you entered Hungary, you've caused problems," Pip agreed as he tightened his grip on the man.

"Yes, but have I not solved many problems as well?" Vlad shifted his gaze to the guard.

"I'll have none of this mischief!" She stomped her foot and reached for Integra's arm to tug her away.

"_Wait_," Integra covered her mouth with one hand and put another on her stomach, "You…_wait_…I cannot…_I cannot breathe_."

Her hands reached out blindly to anything that could hold her up as her feet stumbled forward. It felt harder and harder to breathe as she repeatedly attempted to fill her lungs with air. Her mouth was open, but no words came out, nor air in. Integra desperately tried to free herself from Loredana's grasp, and did so with some effort. Her mind raced as she reacted to the news like a death sentence. To Integra, it was just that. The girl wobbled forward, forgetting to keep one hand on her dress to carry it up from tearing further, and felt it catch on her foot once more, sending her tumbling forward head first.

At that point, Integra didn't care if she had hit the wall nose first; she had to get away from Loredana, and away from any other ladies-in-waiting that were probably in her bed chamber by now, all cooing and clucking like hens and for all Integra knew, plotting the ending days of what little freedom she had left.

But instead of slamming into the ground, she felt her body slip into someone's expecting arms. Already recognizing the familiar metallic plate armor instead of clothed skin, she sensed it was Vlad. _Damn him_. Integra jolted uneasily as her heart lurched forward and began beating again. Vlad immediately looked her paled and sickly green face over and quickly carried her to the wall for some air.

Integra covered her mouth just long enough to make it to the edge and keeled over, throwing up all of her lunch and breakfast. Her body convulsed as she coughed up more food from the day and gripped Vlad's arm for support, sensing his arms already holding her torso steadily. She would have been furious in any other situation, not that it was appropriate in the first place; but for the moment, she thanked their sturdy hold as she could barely find the balance to keep her head up. Her eyes began to water as the bitter taste caused her to retch once more until nothing came out; but she also felt her eyes water at the fact that her dignity had dissolved within the span of ten seconds.

Her cheeks grew red and mottled in shame and anger. How could she appear to be so weak? So frail, and in front of Vlad, of all people? The one person to whom she least wished seem decrepit had to be the person to witness this horrid display of what news could possibly do to a refined princess.

Integra felt Vlad's hands softly loosen their grip as she began to find her balance, and as their presence disappeared, she suppressed the realization that she wanted them to stay. It was unnerving to her that she was so comfortable with the contact. Integra coughed up the last chunks of food and wiped her mouth hastily.

"Disgraceful!" She muttered and gasped for air, instantly noticing her vision sharpen.

Vlad chuckled in his last moments by her side, "Completely natural," He corrected her with some amusement behind his words. Nevertheless, he agreed with her reaction, which all but puzzled her.

The soldier somewhat reluctantly backed away from her and watched.

Integra heaved a great sigh and slowly turned around to see a mortified Lady-in-waiting, a petrified and mildly infuriated guard, and a smiling Wallachian. She inhaled shakily and gulped down, allowing Loredana to walk to her side.

"My Lady," She whispered apologetically and placed a hand on the small of Integra's back, "I am so sorry! Had I known the way you felt about such news, I would have told you in private. Please, forgive me!"

Integra waved an indifferent hand, "I should grow used to public humiliation sooner or later. It was not your fault."

"Shall we convene this discussion in your bed chamber where you can at least sit down?" She suggested.

"No," Integra shook her head, "I must speak with my father and my mother. _Now_."

Loredana nodded hesitantly and began to guide Integra to the throne room.

Vlad flinched as his shoulder was grabbed once more, "You will not lose me this time, Ottoman," Pip grinned.

"Just doing my civic duty," He politely assured, though anger boiled right underneath the surface of those words.

"_Riiiight_. It was your civic duty to touch her, vile creature," Pip sarcastically agreed and dragged him away further from the princess, noticing that Vlad kept glancing back, "You have no right to be seeking her out."

"Seeking her out implies that I wish to see her in the first place," Vlad stated softly.

Pip turned his head, "Is this not what the conversation you were having with her was about?"

To Pip's utter astonishment, he deigned no reply. And when Pip could not believe the silence on its own merits, he also glanced back at the soldier and watched Vlad's gaze turn from Integra to the ground in a downcast look.

Pip, feeling guilty at capitalizing on the man's unhappiness, decided not to rub salt in the wound and walked with the man quietly for the rest of their journey.

.•*´¨`*•.

Seras and Matthias both hugged their mother at the waist and cried tears of joy. No one was sure of her return, and they were thankful that her safe trip home was uneventful. It seemed like it had been years since they had heard news of her, which made the scene all the sweeter. Ladislaus joined the huddle of hugs as he buried his face within his mother's dark blonde curls and inhaled her soothing scent.

"Mother, you return," He breathed as she held onto him tighter.

"I am so glad the castle is still intact!" Erzsébet laughed and stroked the top of Matthias's head, "I missed you all terribly."

Walter smiled as he greeted the governess and bowed, "My Lady, you restore balance to the kingdom once more."

the regent placed his arms on her shoulders and gave them a light squeeze, "We are fortunate you have not fallen ill or been injured. My wife, _my love_, how I've missed you," His voice ached as he restlessly waited for her to finish greeting their children.

She then slowly turned to him and looked into his hazel eyes as she reached up to touch his face, "So many long nights I thought I would never see you again...So many nights praying for your safety, and yet you still look so drained of energy, my love."

the regent kissed the palm of her hand and wrapped his arms around her back to tug her in, "Erzsébet," He whispered and kissed her.

She elevated herself onto her toes to kiss him back, "My dear, I can hardly believe it is you. Everyone is just as they should be."

"Yes," He said in between kisses as he twined his fingers into her hair, "And I will never allow you to leave these walls again. I am not strong enough to see you leave," He pressed his lips to her neck and pulled her even closer.

"_János,"_She laughed and slipped her fingers to block his lips from kissing her further. He paused and looked at the barrier, frustrated. "Not in front of the children, my love."

Seras and Matthias already were cringing and whispering at how gross they looked, but Ladislaus and Walter simply chuckled.

"We shall give you privacy," Walter motioned for the kids to leave as he herded them toward the door.

No sooner had he reached for the handle when it flung open and nearly smacked him in the face. Walter reflexively sprung away from the door and watched an incensed Integra stomp through the portal with another woman at her side who was visibly quaking from the anger emanating from the princess.

"FATHER! MOTHER!" She shouted with clenched fists, "What have you done to me?"

the regent released his wife and turned to his daughter, "Integra, that is no way to greet your mother's return."

The princess turned her head to the side and magnified her glare to rest completely onto him, "How could you withhold information from me? How could you marry me off to someone without my knowledge?"

Erzsébet clucked loudly, "Integra, my dear, it is not your decision to make. You are the eldest daughter, and it is your life's task to find a husband."

"I was not talking to you, mother!" Integra spat and turned back to her father, "I cannot believe what I am hearing!"

"You listen to your mother, Integra," the regent's voice grew louder, "Cease your disrespect while you still have part of our attention."

Integra shook angrily and audibly growled, "I am not some prize to be sold. I will not allow my life to be dependent on another!"

"You robbed yourself of sense if you thought I was not going to tell you," the regent walked over to her, "Yes, I was stalling, but only for the reason that I knew this type of reaction out of you would happen, whether I had told you or not."

"Then if you knew how I felt, why bother searching for someone to begin with?" Integra stepped straight up to him, "You know it makes no sense to me, father. Tie myself to another with bonds of servitude? It serves no purpose!"

the regent began to massage his temple and grunted into a sigh, "As you know, the essence of diplomacy is compromise. We must ally ourselves with as many ruling parties as possible to ensure our victory over the Ottoman Empire. Marrying you to Victor is a…tactical advantage..."

Ladislaus cut in, "Integra, you will be fine. There is no need to worry. Victor is a good man."

"This isn't diplomacy; this is war," Integra barked as she ignored her brother, "I refuse to be used as a chess piece! I will not marry this 'Victor'!"

"My daughter," Erzsébet chided, "Everyone must marry, just as everyone must die. It is part of the natural circle of things."

"No," She shook her head, "What is _natural_ is to tell your daughter first, to write letters and keep her in communication. I got neither from you. What is _natural_ is to be free of servitude. What is _natural_ is to lead a life free of dependence on another."

"You speak of such things that only men can do," Her mother lightly stroked Integra's braided hair, "We women do not have that option."

"But we can change that! I can stay unmarried, become a...a spinster!" She interjected.

"Impossible," Erzsébet shook her head, "You are now amongst royal blood. You must ascend to their level, or perish alone."

"Then I take the latter option!" She shouted, tears forming in her eyes as the image of her mother began to blur and her father lunged for her.

Seras, Matthias, Walter and Erzsébet all gasped in fright and rushed out of his way as he snatched Integra into an iron-hard grasp. He suddenly grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently, rage bubbling to the surface. His eyes were wide and murderous, as if he had finally snapped. Integra yelped and tried to wrench her arms away from the frightening beast now attacking her. But her yanking only tightened his hold on her as she started to scream in pain.

"FATHER! STOP!" Integra screamed and again tried to free herself. Her mother simply watched in horror.

"YOU WILL DO AS YOU ARE TOLD! I AM TIRED OF YOUR DISRESPECTFUL MANNER! YOU HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO DO WHAT YOU ARE TOLD! YOU ARE A WOMAN!" the regent shook her once more and fought the urge to slap her, "You should be thankful for how forgiving I was in raising you. I now see how wrong it was in letting you pursue unnatural things like archery, competition in horseback riding, and even sword-play. I have been lenient, but no more. Now is when you grow up, and so help me I will force you to if I must."

He slowly released his grip on her and watched her fight back tears. She was stronger than any other young woman he had ever known, and that included his wife. Her fiery spirit was a gift and a curse to her, and the regent could empathize. He felt a lump in his throat rise at the pain he was causing her, and he began to pull her into an embrace. Integra resisted at first, but after what had happened, she decided to oblige him instead.

He held her tightly to his chest, as if trying to preserve the last remnants of the little girl with wild and tangled blonde hair he saw within her, "Integra...You would have made a fine ruler. Your strength and wisdom, insight, and forthrightness are all qualities in a great ruler," He kissed the top of her head, "I only wish for your sake that you were born a man instead. If only you had been born a man, what a Caesar you would have made."

Integra grinned and closed her eyes, "Indeed."

the regent chuckled and wiped away her tears with his index finger, "I love you so much. More than you can possibly imagine, my dear. You must do this. You must marry Victor. With the turmoil of who heads the crown, we need all of the allies available. You know I was given regency over The Kingdom of Hungary in the true king's absence. I can hardly stand alone, much less without a ruler to guide this nation. I stepped into this unwillingly position of regent, and hesitantly; but because I recognized that my country needed me, I rose to the occasion. I rose to the challenge, and I would expect nothing less from you."

Integra sniffled softly and leaned into his embrace, "But father…" She tried in a last attempt of a weak plea.

He hushed her quietly, "There is nothing to fear, my dear. Marriage is the next step in your life. _Commit to it_. _Accept it_, and your angst will diminish. It is the most beautiful feeling, second only to fathering a child," He glanced at his wife lovingly.

Integra gulped down, relieved that she was not facing her father, for she had already begun thinking of plans to escape the castle. How many more days was she alone in her life? How many more days would she be free of an attachment? They were numbered now, and she had to figure out a way to stay alive amidst it all. This would be no easy task.

.•*´¨`*•.

I've been thinking...Integra is _ripe_ for a wedding proposal. 16 going on 17, y'know s'kinda old...

I often ask myself: What is the worst position I can put the characters in? And then I do it :D

Fyi: I know spinster is not a word they had back then, but I don't know the equivalent. So I just used it to get the point across.


	13. Sidle Up and Smile

**A/N:**Tried on some Pip and Alucard humor/banter. I think that shoe fit nicely. Perhaps one of them will learn that he can trust the other.

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Sidle Up and Smile

"So tell me, _Master Dracula_," Pip dressed up Vlad's title sneeringly and leaned against a grungy wall of the tavern, "What _are_ your intentions in this war against Islam?"

Vlad sighed tiredly, "Have I not _explicitly_ told everyone on this rock already?"

"All, save for me," Pip watched Vlad heavily sit down in a rickety chair.

The tavern had a musty scent to it with an ail-potent atmosphere that could make a strong man's nose hairs curl. Both men decided to sit down at a table and watch the barkeeper take his rounds, passing by Vlad and handing him a mug. Pip declined politely and adjusted himself accordingly to the hard back of the chair. Vlad gripped his mug aimlessly and shifted his line of sight to the door as he watched people pour in.

Taking a generous swig, he answered, "I am intent on slaying my brother, the sultan, and anyone who gets in my way. Ruling Wallachia as its voivode comes first."

Pip took a moment to understand each point and closed his eyes for a rest, "I see. First the power, _then_ the women," he grinned.

Vlad smiled as well, "Naturally." He took another gulp, "Although, I am not particularly partial in which order they come."

"What I wish to understand is how you learned how to fight," Pip kept his eyes closed, though he could feel the man's gaze rest on him, "I mean…I heard about your little skirmish with Ladislaus a month or two back and how you beat him."

The Wallachian paused, "…You want me to share my knowledge with you? You're naught but a castle guard. What good would you do?"

Pip opened his eyes and narrowed them, clearly insulted, "In times of war, any man can take what he can get, however _little_ it is," he insulted back.

Vlad laughed bitterly, "My, you're salty, and I happen to know more than a little."

"You strike at me, I counter you. Blame my quick mouth," Pip reached for Vlad's mug and took a swig.

"Cheers," Vlad mockingly rose his imaginary glass, pointing out the fact that Pip stole his drink, "If it serves you well to know, then by all means, I will teach you. I think I understand your intentions."

"You may _think_ you do," Pip wiped his mouth with his sleeve and watched a drunken man stumble about the room.

Vlad nodded, "You aim to be a soldier someday, not a lowly guard…not a man-at-arms. That life is too boring, too mundane. No, you want the lifestyle of the brave and daring, of the ones who never live long, but live well. You crave excitement, struggle, battle…_glory_."

Pip's eyes lit up at that last word, "Is it that obvious?" He whispered.

The Wallachian's expression softened slightly, "Yes. Many times have I seen it in my men. Many times have I taught them. Many times…" His eyes unfocused, as if recalling a memory.

"So you will teach me then? In private?" Pip eagerly asked.

Vlad blinked and made an attempt to smile, "And so I shall."

The drunken man stumbled straight into their table and caused the legs to collapse inward. Vlad and Pip jumped up fast enough to dodge the bumbling idiot, but the soldier did not catch his mug fast enough as it tipped over and onto his pants and boots. Pip cackled hysterically as the liquid settled into a nice stain that suggested Vlad had wet himself.

The Wallachian cursed to the heavens and grabbed the drunk by his collar, picking him up clear off the ground with his feet dangling. His red face and heavy eyelids blinked and rolled around confusingly as he gripped Vlad's arm for support, the room spinning out of control.

"You would do well to clean this mess up now, _peasant_," Vlad growled, but the drunk only giggled and burped uncontrollably.

Pip snorted and shook his head, "Perhaps we should just leave this bloated, ail-swilling mountain of belches to the owner," He nodded to the man now walking over who was suited better than the barkeeper who had called him.

The man gruffly swore in a familiar language that Vlad almost could not believe his ears, "Macaristandan nefret ediyorum. Please, let him go. I will deal with this mess, sir," He waddled over.

Vlad, fist ready to plunder, loosened his grip and dropped the man back down to the table and spat on him instead, "Would that I had owned this tavern…"

The guard opened the door quickly, before Vlad had a chance to change his mind and run back in to kill the drunken man, and closed it shut. Vlad regarded the owner carefully as the door was closed, wondering if he should inform Pip of the fact that the man was Turkish. Thoughts of traitors amongst the Regent flooded his mind as Vlad considered that the owner could be in disguise. But something about the owner made him calm, reminded him of his uncle, Bogdan. As more time passed, Vlad felt it harder and harder for him to mention it, and decided that he would investigate the man at a later date. They both turned away from the tavern and squinted as the sun's light attacked them.

"Ugh…" Pip shielded his eyes, "Perhaps it was not in my best interests to drink while the sun was still up…" He reached for his empty stomach.

Vlad ignored him and inhaled the crisp air as he closed his eyes. Without even concentrating, he could smell the dirty clothes, the butchered meats, the manure, the steam from boiling soup, and the smell of horses all in one scented breeze that tickled his nose. He opened his eyes and looked the village over. Most of the men were either stretching leather for saddles and bridles or hammering away at a sword in their shop.

The castle and its walls were always a looming barrier in the near distance, but he watched in awe as men smeared wattle, woven sticks and reeds, and daub, mud and clay, in between the wood to strengthen and seal the houses being built. All of them were of half-timber construction with wooden beams, usually oak. Ground floors were packed earth and had one working fireplace that contributed to the heat as well as light. The workrooms of the merchants, smithies, and tailors, were on the ground floor of their houses.

There, the horizontal wooden shutters were opened out toward the street. The bottom shutter dropped town to serve as a counter upon which to display items, and the top shutter opened as a kind of awning.

Vlad ambled around the bustling streets in mild curiosity, although one eye was always fixed on his surroundings and on Pip. He wasn't about to be ambushed again by angry Hungarians who disliked him.

Picking up a fine piece of pottery from one such shutter, he glanced around the shelf and examined the other vases. They all had a sort of swathed neck and a rounded pot, which looked like it was partially glazed. He even saw markings of the beginnings of decorations sketched into it. In all, it was a fine piece of art, and it even had a handle. He glanced around and saw no merchant. He leaned over the counter and looked inward to the fireplace. No merchant.

Vlad was about to place the piece of pottery back on the shelf when someone with small hands snatched it from him. He turned around to face whose quick fingers had been able to pluck it out of his grasp and looked straight into the eyes of a stunning maiden.

She had long black hair, piercing green eyes, and porcelain white skin. So struck was he by her that the man didn't even notice her angry expression targeted specifically at him.

"Just _what_ were you about to do with that?" she suspiciously asked, "I saw you looking at it fondly. Don't get any ideas of stealing it."

Vlad frowned at her obvious jump to a conclusion that he was a thief, "I would not hastily judge, fair Lady. I am a soldier of Hungary–"

"And you think _soldiers_ don't steal?" she laughed, "What a sheltered mind you have."

Vlad gritted his teeth, " –But more importantly, I am a knight and advisor to your Regent."

Her bright green eyes lost their mockery in a second, "Er…I see…um…"

"An apology would be acceptable right about now," Vlad growled and took a domineering step toward her.

But instead of cowering in fright as he expected, she scoffed at his blatant action and stepped forward as well.

"A knight with an attitude does not make me cower in fear. I have seen my share of dishonest people, knights included, and that is the reason I reacted to you with such hostility. I apologize to people who _deserve_ it, not to people who _demand_ it," the young woman brushed aside one of her black locks and narrowed her eyes at him.

Glancing around, he noticed that a crowd had gathered and begun to watch them curiously. Pip stayed back, but watched on amusingly. He clearly had no inclination to help Vlad out with this problem. Vlad turned back around and debated whether or not to strike her in anger.

"And as long as we're continuing introductions, I am part of the Regent's Court. So your own apology for speaking to me in such a harsh tongue would be appropriate right about now," she challenged.

Vlad blinked twice and realized that her garments were of fine make. And the forest-green dress she was wearing with hooped sleeves slit down the middle was far too embroidered and far too elaborate to be a merchant's daughter. She had to be from the castle.

"Indeed, you are," he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed, "I do apologize for my offensive manner, my Lady."

She nodded, "I bet you are. But those hollow words are a useless formality one must say if even the slightest nerve is out of place within a conversation. There is no need to really apologize; I was the one to judge incorrectly first as it is, my good sir." The Lady curtsied.

Taken aback by her confident wording, he smiled, "Consider it accepted. But I would know your name, first."

She chuckled softly, "I'm sure you would, and it is a pleasure," she evaded and leveled her arm up for him.

Vlad delicately closed his fingers around her fingertips and kissed, never taking his eyes away from hers. Accepting the fact the he would not draw out her name with his charm, he settled on openly, though furtively, looking every part of her over.

She watched him quizzically as he so formally treated her, "…You would be?"

"Sir Vlad Dracula, of the House of Drăculești," He stood back up only to bow gracefully back down.

The young Lady took a step back from him covertly, though he noticed, "Oh, I see. I've…heard of you," her voiced seemed to forewarn.

His spirits fell once more, already anticipating a lecture of what kinds of wrong he was doing to Hungary; but instead of slowly watching his reputation being graded to nothing, she smiled and playfully bumped his arm.

"Don't look at me like that. I am rather impressed at how you've managed to, at every corner where you could have turned around, continue to surprise the crown in your determinedness to remain loyal."

He double took at her words and laughed, "I'd be lying if I said to you that most people believe what you just said. They believe I am still plotting against Hungary in my own secretive way. And although it is tempting, and although I do hate Hungary, I hate my brother and what the Ottomans did to me more."

She stood there silently for a moment to process his words and then began to nod.

"I understand," she ran a self conscious hand through her hair.

"Do you?" Vlad asked dubiously.

She circled him with evident curiosity, "There are always traitors amongst us, always bloodshed, always warring between two factions that refuse to see eye to eye, wars in the name of religion, in the name of land, or title…No one's intentions are ever pure. This is something we must live with everyday, a reality we must accept. So, when you ask me 'do I understand?'…"

The soldier stood still for his inspection and chuckled wryly, "Intriguing."

The Lady looked at him intently, her green eyes watching his every move, and she noticed his fascination with her immediately. His predatory gaze did not escape from her, but what shocked her slightly was the fact that she met his gaze with her own, equally rapacious. She shook herself in a chiding manner, reminding herself that there were more important things to do than flirt with a man she hardly knew, "But enough of this banter. I have things to buy in the market. I have a schedule to finish, and you have an advisor to report to." She ceased circling him, and felt guilty for leading him on.

Vlad audibly groaned, "Must you remind me?"

She gathered up two baskets, laughed, curtsied to him, and began walking down the busy street, "Surely it isn't that bad?"

He inhaled deeply as he blatantly looked her figure over, "Were you my advisor to whom I needed to report, I would arrive early by half of an hour."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Flatterer!" she shouted over her shoulder, and continued on her way out of his sight without looking back.

Vlad looked her disappearing image over until she was swallowed into the crowd of people once more. She was more than he could handle, clearly. High-powered…like a certain fair maiden soon to be betrothed and married. He sighed happily, swaying for a moment from the absence of her powerful aura as he regained his strength and turned around to see a grinning Pip. Instantly, the man was on him.

"I don't understand women…" Pip walked up and shook his head.

"Nor do I. But they understand us," Vlad laughed bitterly.

The guard played with his imaginary long hair and batted his eyes girlishly, "'Flatterer'," he stated in a high-pitched voice, "Quite a trap, that one. And she's got you in a thick trance."

Vlad frowned and reached for his sword, "You may test your mettle now, guard, lest your pride burst completely out of your chest, or do you fear that I might win after such disheartening mockery?"

Pip's eyes widened shamelessly, "Make fun of you, good sir? My soon-to-be comrade-in-arms? Perish the thought! My dear Wallachian, I aim only to make you laugh."

Vlad's body began to relax, "…You called me _Wallachian_…not Ottoman…" He noticed.

Pip shrugged defensively, "Well, y'know. It is probably just rubbing off on me."

Vlad grinned and chuckled knowingly, "Fair enough, Court Jester. Then see me off to the castle. It is about time I report to my duties."

"You mean to Lord Alexander Anderson?" Pip elaborated.

"No, I mean to the head cook of the castle," Vlad stated in deadpan sarcasm and began striding off as he shook his head.

"Grouchy, grouchy, _grouchy_! Be with me long enough and we will yet rid you of that temper, my good sir! Just you see!" Pip jogged merrily to keep up.

.•*´¨`*•.

"Please," the artist growled, "If you move one more time, I swear I will mess up your beautifully shaped nose!"

Integra's eye twitched. She had sat there, compliant with what the man had wanted for the past four hours, without any food or water, without talking, and practically without breathing. She was beginning to get restless, digging her fingers into the carved wood of the chair until a nail bent backward. The pain kept her alert, God forbid she move and ruin the painting so the artist would have to start from scratch. However, with the looks he was giving the princess now, it wouldn't be long until he crumpled up the sketch and kicked the canvas completely off of the easel.

"Can I not–"

"And NO TALKING!" He screeched as he angrily pinched the bridge of his thin nose.

He was a lanky man, just beginning to bald, with sickly withering skin, and a mouth that was ever pressed into a hard and frustrated thin line. His long spidery fingers gently caressed his pencil as he delicately traced an outline of her figure. The man bit his tongue that protruded out of his mouth a little in concentration as his black beady eyes flicked from Integra's face to the sketch he was attempting to draw.

Walter watched on intently, though he occasionally drifted in and out of sleep as he sat atop a lavishly decorated sofa a few feet away. Integra could not look at the artist; women were never painted nor sketched looking at the viewer, so she decided that her focal point would be Walter's familiar and calming face. He would always throw her encouraging expressions, though she sensed their underlying amusement at her inevitable squirming and impatience. When he woke up next, he exchanged a look of rueful empathy.

Matthias, who was previously sitting with Walter, had stood up to inspect the drawing. His face scrunched disapprovingly and he pointed to a spot.

"You're doing her eyes all wrong. They should be smaller because you have to make room for her massive ears," he giggled.

"MATTHIAS!" Integra bellowed. He stuck his tongue out at her.

"Don't be rude!" Seras hissed, "Integra, you look beautiful," she reassured and sat back down next to the artist, enraptured at each delicately placed mark.

"Just think, Integra. You will be painted in no time and will be able to eat all you want," Walter yawned and relaxed into the pillows once more, completely, and happily, abusing his time off.

"No," Matthias disagreed, "I hope it takes at least four more hours before he finishes!"

The artist whimpered softly at that, as if he could not bear another four minutes.

"You giggle now, young prince, but when you have to pose for your own, do not come crying to us, for Integra and I will be laughing," Walter tweaked the little boy's nose affectionately.

Matthias sat there gawking at his manservant for a moment before shrugging and belly-flopping onto the sofa once more in a fit of giggles, uninterested. Seras chuckled.

"Remind me, why are we doing this?" Integra managed to say between her teeth.

Walter looked at her expectantly, as if she would certainly know exactly the answer, "Umm, the artist will paint your portrait, of course. You will exchange portraits with Victor so you know what the other looks like before the wedding. It's also a gift of sorts, so either we can hang it in our halls, or he can in his."

Integra's eye twitched once more. She had barely been used to the idea of attaching herself to another person, let alone someone she'd never even met. Integra always thought that if she ever got married, it would be to someone that she would have known over a longer period of time than just a short conversation with her father three weeks ago.

She audibly groaned, "He better be–"

"How many times must I ask you, my Lady, NOT TO SPEAK?" the artist's vein in his neck bulged with every heated pulse.

The princess's eyes grew wide for a moment at the ugly sight, and Seras flinched, but their cool seeped in as she grinned –the first grin in four hours–, "As you wish, my fellow paint-stroker."

He rolled his eyes and moaned, "The Regent better pay me double for what I have to put up with!"

Integra scoffed, "My father better start to pay _me_ for this hogwash bullsh–"

"Integra!" Walter raised his voice, "Please, keep your composure," he laughed nervously at the artist who trembled with rage, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"If I hear one more word…" the artist threatened, "I will leave this room."

Integra jutted her chin out indignantly and pouted.

Ana, one of the ladies-in-waiting, ambled toward them with fresh sheets for Integra's bed and began piling the old ones into a basket. Her plain and simple brown attire with a delicate flower hair piece pinned to the side of her auburn head along with her ever-present smile created a warm atmosphere about her instantly. Jusztina, another Lady-in-waiting who dressed to impress, walked in with two baskets filled with fruits. Her green dress with hooped sleeves slit down the middle accentuated her long and skinny arms including her well-placed shoulders and beautifully shaped neck.

"It's a beautiful day, miss. Why don't you and Seras take a walk outside in the sun after this is over?" Ana tied back her auburn curls and fluffed pillows next.

Jusztina's eyes lighted up as she set the silverware down, "Oh, it is lovely. I just made it back from the market with these fruits for you."

Walter eyed the fruit bowls, "Where on earth did you get these oranges? They're a rare delicacy."

Jusztina smiled, completely satisfied, "I was able to ask a favor of a friend I have. Besides, I thought these would go quite well in the portrait with Integra."

Walter nodded in agreement.

Integra sat there, silenced by her own personal painter. She wanted to flail her hands in the air and kick the damn easel herself. Had it not been for her upbringing, she would have.

"If you so wish, you could even help us with our chores," Ana was bold enough to say with some harmless spite laced into her words.

Her ladies-in-waiting were taking the advantage of Integra not being allowed to speak quite well, in fact. Integra was ready with a retort, but feared that any slight movement would send the artist flying out of the window in a suicidal rage. It wasn't until she saw that Jusztina had begun placing the fruits onto the various tables throughout the room that Integra heard her stomach growl. The sustenance called to her. Jusztina set down a few oranges onto the table in front of Walter and in plain sight of Integra. The princess felt her mouth water as she dug her nails into the carving of the chair again. She almost started whimpering, feeling as if she were being tortured.

"Ah," the artist sighed satisfactorily as he finally sat up from his hunched position of concentration and reached for an orange.

Integra's eyes followed his hand as he considered one and then took the other. She bit her lip and sucked her breath in, watching as the peculiar man peeled back some of the skin with his spidery fingers and opened his mouth to bite into it. He offered a chunk of it to Seras as well.

"Break time!" Integra shouted as she launched out of her seat, sending it tumbling backward, and dove for the last succulent fruit.

Walter sat up instantly and watched, half amused and half empathetic, as always, and patted her on the back, turning to the stunned lanky man.

"Perhaps a few minutes?" Walter suggested and nodded below him to the princess who was ripping apart the orange and sucking the life out of it.

The artist, without giving it much thought, nodded fervently and gathered up his things, "Of course. I could use a break from this girl. Parents today refuse to teach their children manners!," He strutted out of the room proudly.

Integra lifted her face from devouring the orange and let its juice dribble down to her chin. She grinned at the man with seeds stuck between her teeth and opened her mouth at him, making an unattractive gagging noise in the process. She was rewarded by his horrified expression as his own mouth dropped in shock.

"H-how dare you! Mad viper of a child!" He spat and slammed the door, startling her ladies-in-waiting. Seras, Matthias, and Integra all laughed.

Walter smacked his palm to his forehead, "Must you aggravate everyone who does not bend to your will?"

She grinned evilly, "Until it becomes so unbearable, they succumb," she paused, "Was that rhetorical, or have you forgotten the entire lifetime you've known me?"

He sighed, "Ah, yes. Why do I bother, my master?"

She smiled at him for a moment before her eyes waned into a look of weary sadness.

"It's really going to happen, isn't it?" she asked, as if hoping he could, within a word, have the power to change her fate.

He nodded somberly, "It will, my Lady."

She inhaled slowly and exhaled, letting her shoulders sag in what little display of despair she would allow herself to show. Her manservant seemed to notice her lowering posture and felt his hand find her shoulder. She flinched at the contact, and he almost let go. But just as he was about to drop his hand she leaned her head onto his own shoulder and placed her hand atop his hand in platonic affection. He smiled as he looked at her young and un-callused hand, lifting it up to kiss her palm. She smiled softly, noticing her vision begin to suddenly blur. His face contorted into slight shock as he wiped a tear from her face. She was just as stunned as he was at the sight of it and let her head slide off of his shoulder.

Walter chuckled softly, "My Lady…"

"What, Walter?" she cradled her head in her hands.

"_Grow up_," he said with conviction.

The princess blinked away her growing tears for the moment and raised her head to see him. Walter stood up unflinchingly with a tall stature and clenched fists. His tight shoulders and stern face made him look almost threatening to her, and had she not known him, she would have been. But the act looked almost forced, as if he'd rather see her angry –at him no less– than sad about something.

"Walter?"

"Integra, I know that this seems like the end of the world, I know that you don't think it's fair, and I know your mind is still thinking up ways to weasel out of this right now. But you need to _stop wallowing in self pity_. It's been _three_ _weeks_. I can barely stand it anymore. This has to cease. 'Woe is me' will only work if you plan on doing absolutely nothing about this," he stated with disgust.

Integra scoffed angrily, "What can I do, Walter? I can mourn the death of my independence; now leave me be to do just that."

"That's not the Integra I know," Seras added in, shaking her head, "She would stand strong, she would laugh at the challenge and prove the men around her wrong, and she would take it like a man."

Integra wiped at her eyes again, "What would you have me do, fight it or accept it?"

Seras rolled her eyes, "I would have you use it to your advantage! This situation is no more different than any of the other problems you have had to face in the past. Each time, you were given a choice: submit to it, or use it for your own gain. And each time, Integra, you used it and wielded your enemies' leverage as your own, conquering them in the process."

Walter glanced at Seras and smiled, clearly in support of her comments. Her older sister blinked at the ground as she recalled all of the lessons she had taken in rhetoric and history, and the fights she would have with Anderson and her other subjects, as well as her own father.

"This whimpering, submissive, teary-eyed bride-to-be is no sister I remember," Seras chuckled and placed her hands on her hips.

Integra looked up and smiled, "You…you're starting to sound like me." She sniffled one last time and straightened her posture, "You're right. Sobby tears be damned! I will not perish in a puddle of tears of my own making! I will stand up to this and take the hit."

.•*´¨`*•.

"I don't always flip you off, but when I do, I make a habit of spitting out orange seeds at you." –Integra with Most Interesting Man in the World picture meme.

In case anyone is wondering, oranges were often used in portraits of nobility and even royalty to display that they had wealth. So Integra is not only defiling the rarity of the orange at this time, but also the fact that it represents an abundance of wealth. LOL, silly Integra. That scene was based on a similar story that happened to my friend with a similar, I'm sure equally arrogant artist. No bashing on artists, though, as I'm one myself.

Okay, I have a slight confession to make: Seras will NOT grow up to be a submissive little slave girl as so many fics here portray her as. It flat out disgusts me. Yes, she will be sweeter and more compliant than Integra, but Seras will grow to be strong, like her 'sister'.

Pip and Vlad bonding, how cuuuutttee! This chapter was fun to make. But no worries. I don't expect there to be a bromance between the two. Too much hilarity would ensue.

~Okay, 'Macaristandan nefret ediyorum' is a rough translation from Turkish that means "I hate Hungarians." The owner of the tavern said it. Now, I looked it up four different times on different translation engines, and each of them gave me different answers, so it's a ROUGH translation. Spare me if I'm wrong. If you know Turkish, then tell me how to say it right. Problem solved, my lovelies~

Hmm…there are references to Dragon Age: Origins in there somewhere…

This chapter, like any of the others, is subject to change if I see mistakes in it and whatever else I obsess over in trying to make it perfect.

I occasionally do 'shout-outs' to my reviewers, and since I haven't done that in a while, I thought I'd do one for this chapter, especially since I received many more reviews than I thought I'd get. I know that most authors generally keep a distance from their audience, but I never felt compelled to act as such. You all take the time to review my work, so I should, in turn, comment back to you every now and then.

**Shout out to****Silent Inferno** : I'm completely flattered that my story is considered one of your favorites. I always find it interesting that some awesome people think my work is creative and original and 'flawless', as you say! Yes, I would never truly quit this story; it IS far too interesting with what I can do to it. I love AxI as well. They are my favorite pairing, of all. I shall continue the story, but only because I get such nice reviews like yours.

**Shout out to****Soul93** : You've been with me for a while :) I'm glad you're still interested in it, despite my sporadic updates. It's truly satisfying to see one person who sticks with me and reviews constantly. You tell me to update more more MOAR, but you cannot rush artwork!. Lol. You can, but it's unadvised. Besides, I like to torture my readers and take the possible future pairings at a slow pace. Oh, the _torture_. Yes, I was hoping to get that effect with Vlad and Integra, and the twist of events solidifying their fates…doomed never to be together muhahaha! Hopefully my next chapter will be posted sooner, so as to avoid your wrath ^.^

**Shout out to****Alaina Rayne** : I am glad you like the fact that I use real events and facts about this story. That's the main reason why I like it too, because I can use it as a sort of map to guide me through his life, but I can also make my own with the other Hellsing characters. Part of me is certain that this has been done before, but I haven't seen one exactly like mine, so that's a relief!

**Shout out to****Lorraine**: I am also excited to see Vlad in an advisor setting! Anderson will surely try to do something to stop this, and I will keep writing to the end. Thanks again!

**Shout out to****zenbon zakura**: Those are all good ideas, and I've considered both in the past. Patience, my friend. Everyone knows that Seras has a mini crush on Pip, but she must also marry one of royalty. Both girls will face the choice of infidelity in their lifetime, as every woman does, but it's up to them to stay strong and even-keel. I can only say to you that I wish I could update faster, but I cannot rush my mind into wanting to write. If it doesn't want to, I can't force it. Otherwise, whatever comes out is garbage hahaha

**Shout out to****TheAvengerHero**: Really? Interesting. It always puzzles me that I do have people who probably talk to others about my stories. But then I remember starting off on this site doing just that; fascinated with certain writers here. I'm glad I did not disappoint you, sir. One point to the author for originality! I hope you continue to enjoy it.

**Shout out to Selina**: Thank you very much. I love it too, and everything that I can do with it.

**Shout out to** **hellsingfan101**: Hello there, friend. Of course I remember you. I was hoping you'd someday notice my work. I'm glad I have your approval, since you're actually the first author I'd ever read a story from on this site. Have you really read all of the chapters up to this point? Yes, it'll get increasingly angsty for Integra hehehe.

**Shout out to****W. Lynn:**Ah, more subscribers. Gotta love it! I've got some crazy things saved up for the upcoming chapters, so hopefully they won't dissapoint.

**Shout out to Sigmund17:** Then I think I must. To be honest, Troy might be next. It's honestly whatever fits in the moment, and whatever movie lines come to me then and there. I agree; if the shoe fits, then place it right where it should go, and I always try to be careful to make sure that, in the context, the movie lines fit right in so that the reader has that moment of, "Ah. Hahaha, I see what you did there, writer." It is more difficult than it looks to incorporate other characters into this fic, mainly because I'm just imagining what they'd act like and what little I've read about their individual personalities. I try to use them almost like props, or instruments that help sharpen and mold the main characters of the plot into who they ultimately become. I thank you truly for noticing that. Yes, I expect there will be twists and turns along the way down the road. The upcoming chapters will be...interesting, I can tell you that much.

I hope I didn't miss anyone...


	14. Practice

**A/N:** Practice clears the mind, yet invites trouble along with it…apparently…

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Practice

"Tell Lord Vladislav II that I can spare another battalion of men for him, but no more," The Regent dug his fingers into his scalp, clearly frustrated, "He needs to unify Wallachia, and quickly."

Anderson bowed to that and shifted around more papers. Thumbing through more documents, he pulled out another sheet of paper, "Ah, also, the village of Bagamér is acting up again. There have reportedly been fights, looting, and protests against your regency over The Kingdom of Hungary. A messenger delivered it on this morn."

The Regent yanked on his growing dark brown hair until he could feel individual strands snap, "I thought we crushed that uprising. I thought Ladislaus took care of it," he turned sharply to Vlad, "I thought _you_ took care of it."

Vlad brushed the comment aside easily, "My Lord, Ladislaus and I would have, were it not for the imminent trouble of the Ottoman army we found out about. Ladislaus had been crushing the uprising for two days when I arrived. Then we caught word of the Ottomans sneaking around. That was when we sent Andor to investigate, only he came back to us pierced by a crossbow. From there on out, it seemed pretty clear where we needed to place our priorities."

Anderson narrowed his eyes at his second advisor, "It seems everywhere you go there are Ottomans on your heels."

"Well, if I recall what happened last time correctly, you and the Regent actually set me up to face Radu in the hopes that I would either die, or join them. What you were not counting on was the feverish loyalty I have for the Order of the Dragon," Vlad did not even look at Anderson and kept his eyes leveled on his ruler.

"Yet you do not deny the fact that Radu might compromise the ending of a battle. After all, you did take mercy on him," Anderson shut his notes and adjusted the cross around his neck, staring at the back of Vlad's head in an open glare.

Vlad turned very slowly around and met Anderson's gaze with a look of calm rage, "The most you could _ever_ distort what happened is to say that I 'spared' Radu. I do not take mercy on my enemy. We were outnumbered by at least three to one and their foot artillery arrived. I had two options: die in a futile attempt to kill my brother, or flee as…" Vlad turned to the Regent, "…your son did. So, my dear Royal Vizier…" he turned back around, "…if you wish to give someone a lashing with that blunt tongue, then I suggest you turn to Ladislaus since it was he who made the order to attack head on."

"He told me what happened," The ruler stated defensively, "I am not saying that I respect his decision, and I had a very long talk with him. Gentlemen," his voice suddenly sounded of diplomatic velvet, "I thought we were passed all of this childish back and forth bickering, or should I leave and return tomorrow?"

"No, my Lord," Anderson quickly reassured, "My apologies, but I still have doubts about this man." He nodded to the Wallachian.

Vlad snickered gruffly, "Just as I have my doubts about your competence."

Anderson twitched, but stood still, "I _will_ have a word with you after this meeting." His eyes almost seemed to grow a shade darker to match his menacing tone.

"_Gentlemen_," The Regent warned.

The Wallachian sighed theatrically, "We could duel right now, if you so wished my fellow advisor," Vlad taunted. When Anderson stood there with remarkable self-restraint, Vlad shrugged and turned back to The Regent, "My Lord, might I suggest stationing soldiers there permanently? It would certainly help in preventing another uprising, but it would also keep a few extra pairs of eyes fixed on the border between our territory and the Ottoman's."

He nodded.

"If there is anything I know about the Ottomans, it is that they thrive on finding any weak spots in your borders and exploit them to the fullest extent. We want to make sure that they focus their troops elsewhere. So long as they believe that we are a force of equal strength to their own, they will not waste more men in trying to conquer Hungary; and the sooner we accomplish this, the sooner we can all sleep at night," Vlad turned around to face the carved-out window thoughtfully.

Fortunately, a beautiful woman in a dark blue flowing dress floated into the room with an angel's grace. Erzsébet smiled and curtsied to every man in the room, a slow and loving movement. Anderson, Vlad, and the Regent all stared at her perfection with their mouths slightly open. Her lavender perfume seemed to emanate from the walls and intoxicate the inhabitants. Erzsébet laughed melodiously, the paragon of what a queen should look like.

"Well, let us continue the meeting, shall we? Do not stop on my account," she grinned, pleased with their reactions to her dramatic entrance.

Anderson kissed her ring as she extended her arm, "My governess, it pleases me to see you well."

She nodded and turned to Vlad. Erzsébet seemed to hesitate for a split second, which was noticed only by him. As they locked with his, her eyes, in that moment, penetrated through his walls of pretentious, swaggering courage. The deep wistfulness within those blue orbs seemed to strip away every piece of armor he had within the span of a second. It startled him as she stared at him longer, which only made him feel as though he continued sinking into an abyss. It slipped its hooks into him and pull him lower, deeper, lulling him almost into a drowsy sleep.

He stood there, in a strange coma, feeling completely naked and exposed for her to begin her dissection. When he watched her lips curl upward in a smile, he couldn't feel the strength to breathe. Trying to break free from her, he squirmed. To his relief, she lifted her toxic gaze from him and looked back at her husband. He instantly felt released from being held captive and touched every piece of his clothing, making sure it was just a reverie.

When he dared to look back at Erzsébet, she looked as harmless as ever. He blinked in confusion and shook his head.

"So this is Sir Vladislaus Dracula III," She announced graciously.

He instinctively stepped forward and bowed, her arm extended to him, and he hesitated.

"Your generosity is as remarkable as your beauty," Vlad kissed her soft white skin that resembled Integra's remarkably, "I can easily see where your daughters get their beauty."

He saw her eyes flash in anger for a split second but then return to their charming glow once more.

"Thank you, young one," She chuckled and stepped back to her husband's side.

"I've been thinking, my love," The Regent thoughtfully looked a manuscript over, "My birthday is coming up, is it not? Should we begin plans for the annual feast day?"

Erzsébet made a sound of slight interest, "Yes, it is. I was thinking of preparing a feast for you, in your honor. Or perhaps a celebration?"

The Regent-governor nodded slowly to both of those ideas, but he was now more focused on the fact that she seemed distant, "Is something wrong?"

She blinked and smiled politely, "No, nothing," Her eyes wandered to Vlad for a moment, "I only worry for our daughter."

The Regent sighed and decided to sit down for this conversation, "I told you. Victor is a good man. His title says it all. Imperial prince, Duke of Munsterberg and Opava and Count of Kladsko."

"It is not Victor in whom I have doubts," Erzsébet clarified softly, breaking her eye-contact with Vlad, whose heart began to beat faster, "It is with George of Kunštát and Poděbrady, Victor's father."

Vlad exhaled silently.

"You know he claims regency over Bohemia, but that region is torn viciously with civil war: one party faithful to Rome, and the other, the Hussites, faithful to him. That is hardly a stable ally to put so much faith in, and I can't help but wonder if he will be there to help us against the Ottomans."

The Regent wrapped his arms around his wife, securing her, and hoping he could secure her doubts, "I know…I know…" he whispered in her ear, "But it is a marriage-alliance. It is a pact between regions like us. It promises that–"

"That's the problem," Erzsébet raised her voice, "I don't want her anywhere near Bohemia. She might get killed, János. It's not stable there."

He hushed her by placing a thick index finger across her lips, "Which is why I am going to invite Victor to the celebration of my birthday. And his father, The Regent of Bohemia, George, is invited, along with his family. Everyone shall be invited. Every man with a title attached to his name can be invited. Perhaps we could even make it a tournament, a Turneul Cavalerilor."

Erzsébet coiled a strip of her blonde hairs around her finger in deep thought. Her nose scrunched and her eyes narrowed. The Regent almost kissed her right there for looking so cute, but he refrained, because he knew she would get mad at him diverting her concentration. She bit at her lip, considering something new.

"My love, tournaments are held for the sole purpose of winning a fair noble Lady, so that the knight may talk to the nobleman to arrange a marriage…"

The Regent's eyes lit up as he began to imagine it, "Yes, you're right. We could kill two birds with one stone."

Erzsébet chuckled, seeing exactly where he was headed, "You mean to invite Victor to the celebration to meet Integra, _and_ marry Seras off to a knight who registers in the Turneul Cavalerilor? Ingenious."

The ruler kissed the top of her forehead slowly and looked down at her adoringly, "What would we do without each other?"

She was about to answer him when he silenced her reply with a kiss. Vlad had guessed it was a rhetorical question.

"And I believe this is where I take my leave," Vlad heard himself say abruptly, startling their amorous moment. Anderson nodded in agreement, turning a sickly green color.

The Regent snapped his fingers to both men without breaking eye contact with Erzsébet, "Ah ah…my advisors, get this job done. The celebration needs to be…a memorable one."

Anderson cleared his throat, "My Lord…what of Bagamér?"

"Yes," The Regent seemed to remember, "You're right. Send Ladislaus and a company of men to assist him." He did not release his wife as she quite resisting him, sighed, and began to hug him back.

Vlad, mildly disgusted by the sight, forced himself to take a step forward for his question, "My Lord, do you wish me to accompany Prince Ladislaus to quell the uprising?" Eagerness could not be masked in his voice.

"I second the idea," Anderson nodded in agreement, the only time Vlad actually would have his support.

But The Regent shook his head in disagreement, "No, you shan't. You must stay here and help with the preparations of the tournament. You have helped enough already in this meeting."

Anderson watched as the young man's jaw locked and his gaze fell to the floor in frustration. In a whisper that could almost not be heard, Vlad stated, "My Lord, I hardly feel useful planning for a _party_…"

"You will do as you are told, advisor," The Regent stated impatiently.

"Then shall I do what I'm clearly supposed to do?" Vlad raised his voice, "I'll just then _advise_ you of the fact that my title is Captain, and I prefer to be called as such. The word 'advisor' is reserved for men with obsequious pomposity. In essence, Anderson," Vlad threw him a perfect smile.

There was a pause when The Regent decided whether or not to answer, and how to. The man let go of his worrying wife and sighed, turning around to face the young brute. The older man's eyes dangerously narrowed as he walked up to Vlad. The Regent placed a hard hand onto Vlad's shoulder, instantly choking its circulation in a vice grip. Vlad fought the urge to flinch and twist away from the pain, but pain was what taught him to stay strong; it was what taught him to stare back at his problem and fight it relentlessly into the ground; it was what taught him to stay alive, what reminded him of the fact that he still _was_ alive. The Regent bent slightly to whisper in Vlad's ear.

"Then shall I remind you of the fact that I am, above nothing else, your ruler? And of the fact that when I give you a command, you obey it? If you give me reason to believe that you will not follow orders, I shall have your head delivered to me on a silver platter by the end of today. Are we clear? You are not to question my judgment," The Regent stood back up straight and smiled.

Vlad grudgingly bowed his head, "Yes, my Lord." He did not smile back. "I take my leave. Or am I forbidden from that as well?" He turned on his heels before any answer could be formed and walked out of the room in a cloud of torrential anger.

.•*´¨`*•.

Seras reached for the familiar wooden feel of her bow. Its soft, curved shape soothed her mind as she then groped for the matching quiver of arrows. Throwing it to her back like a sack of potatoes, it slung loosely into place. She took a stance and eyed her target thirty paces away; far enough to squint her eyes, but close enough for her arm to pull back on it, the limbs bending flexibly under her pressure. She quickly pulled an arrow out of her quiver and lined it up correctly with her grip. She inhaled slowly, and exhaled, releasing the arrow. It shot forward with a whoosh and penetrated her target mercilessly with a 'thud'. Eying the damage done, she grinned, satisfied.

Another violent swish of air blew passed her face, causing her hair to whip her cheeks. She whirled around in a panic to see her older sister brushing imaginary dirt off her shoulder in an attempt to look awesome, that it was no skin off of her nose. Looking back at the target, a thick dagger had embedded itself in the dummy's chest adjacent to Seras's arrow.

"You could have warned me that you were here," She said angrily, "Had your aim been slightly off…"

Integra shrugged, "And yet, it wasn't. I'm not here to fight with you, Seras. I just need to work off some pent up…emotions," she carefully chose the word and unsheathed a sword from her weapons belt.

Seras nodded, seeming to understand, and pulled another arrow out, "I can sympathize. You seem to have made peace about it."

"The engagement?" Integra asked.

"Yes…" Seras stated, as if it was obvious, "Unless…unless you haven't–"

Jutting her sword forward in a hook like motion, Integra gutted a different hay bale, watching the straw spill out and to the ground, "I have."

The two words were awkward and abrupt, but Integra did not care to reply with a usual furthering statement, to Seras's surprise. Her younger sister opted to continue practicing in silence. But it didn't last.

Integra bared her teeth at her target and slashed at it once more, pretending it was retaliating as she jumped this way and that, "I have no reason not to come to peace with it," she pommel-struck the dummy's head, "Victor is obviously a good man, from what I've heard," Integra impaled her sword into its chest with a grunt, "He's rich, a duke, has a fiefdom, all the riches in the world that a girl could ask for. He'll make a fine husband!" she pulled out another hidden dagger and stabbed the dummy roughly where its eye should be. Pausing to realize what she was saying and what she was doing, noting that they looked very different, laughed in spite of herself. There was a certain bitterness she could not hold back from it.

Seras's face twisted into a knot of frowns, "Is that what you _think_, or is that what you _want_ to think?"

Integra ceased dismembering her target and glanced back at Seras. Her expression was easy enough to read that Integra was miffed for being pushed further. Even without a response, Seras got her answer in seconds and nodded sadly.

"Forgive me, sister," Seras apologized, "I did not mean to pry."

Integra turned back to the bale and sawed its arm off, "You are fine. You are not one to judge," she grinned, "After all, it has become quite obvious that you have feelings for Pip."

Seras lost her balance and shot the arrow straight into the grass a couple of feet in front of her. Her cheeks instantly felt hot as she reflexively reached up to cover her blushing face to hide the evidence, "What?"

To that, Integra laughed raucously, "Do not play innocent. I see the way you look at him when he escorts us places. I see the way he looks at you, as well."

Seras turned swiftly around and allowed her curiosity to win over, "What did you see? What does he look like? Does he even look at me? He never looks at me, nor deigns to talk to me on the way over! What if he hates me? How would you know anything?"

The elder held up a hand, which finally caused Seras to stop talking, "I don't need to answer all of these questions in order for you to know that he feels something for you," she paused, "Now, what you do with this is up to you."

Seras double took at her statement, "What, no warning? No chastisement? Not even some parting words of wisdom?"

Integra closed her eyes as she felt a breeze play with her hair. Its soft and warm caress sweetened the sad moment as she swallowed. "I have no wisdom to give, since I am as guilty and naive as you…"

When Seras was about to ask what she meant by that, they both heard someone shove open the secret door to the target range. Both girls frantically raced to the covered ivy sides for safety and hid themselves amongst the greenery. The person kicked the door once more and watched it crack open with a jolt. Seras and Integra looked on curiously to see a castle guard enter, suspiciously glancing around him.

"That's Pip!" Seras gasped in complete disbelief, "What is he doing here?"

"I don't mean to point out the obvious," Integra reasoned, "But he looks more like he should be here than we do."

Seras shushed her when another person stepped through the portal. His maroon cape and gold tassels swishing gracefully across his collar bone as his plated shoulders swayed confidently side to side. Vlad tossed his black shoulder-length hair aside and stepped closer into the field, muttering something softly about the sun's brightness. He stalked a few steps into the high grass when he halted and sniffed the air. Integra and Seras held their breaths as his head turned slowly to face them, his eyes trailing the ivy and bushes that they were concealed with. He took a few steps in their direction, much to Integra's dislike, but fortunately, Pip called out to the man.

"Vladislaus, can you teach me now?" Pip pressed. He stationed himself next to the hay bale that Integra had crippled.

Vlad blinked and glanced once more at the bushes, then continued his way to the guard. He paused again, and this time inspected Integra's dummy, taking acute interest in the dagger buried in its head. He reached for the hilt and gently grasped it. Upon meeting contact, he withdrew his hand as quickly as it had reached out.

"Vladislaus, now is it? Not Ottoman? Or even Wallachian? We're on a first-name basis? Oh, how _touching_," he chuckled.

Pip rolled his eyes, "Forgive me, Oh Segregated One, if I do not wish to anger my teacher on the first day."

Vlad unsheathed his sword and fought the urge to smile, "Then arm yourself, my student."

Pip unsheathed his own sword and examined it for a moment, "These…are blunt, correct? We're only dueling, right; so that I may better hone my skills at reading my enemy's moves?"

Vlad did not reply and only stepped closer to Pip. The guard nervously watched the soldier's eyes darken at Pip, his new target. They saluted one another and readied their stance. Each man stood unflinchingly still as he watched the other to move first. Vlad jerked his sword to the right side, causing Pip to fling his weapon in that direction. Vlad quickly took advantage of Pip's mistake and jutted his sword left, into the tip of the man's chest, leaving room for the width of a fingernail. Pip held his breath as he stood still and eyed the sword.

"Amateur mistake," Vlad shook his head, "Never be startled by another's moves, and never take your eye away from your target."

Pip righted himself and leveled his sword again, "Yes, of course. How stupid," he said with honesty, shaking his head in embarrassment.

Vlad crossed his footsteps and watched as Pip matched him. "Good, you're mirroring what I do."

Pip jumped out at Vlad, and as Vlad took the bait, Pip twirled to the side, missing the soldier's blade and whacked at Vlad's backside. But Vlad was quicker and ducked to the floor, rolling into a crouching position agilely and sweeping his weapon at Pip's feet in an arc that split the leaves settled on the ground. The guard jumped up to avoid the sword and lunged for the man again. Vlad leaned back as the guard grazed his metal chest plate with the tip, engraving a nice horizontal line in it. For a moment, Pip looked at it satisfactorily with a smug grin when Vlad growled softly and clashed weapons.

The sound of metal hitting metal rang through their ears, but it was a familiar tune that Vlad welcomed. Finally, there was an outlet he could use in releasing his anxiety and anger.

Adrenaline sang through his veins as Pip desperately tried to keep up with the soldier. Just when the guard had deflected a near crushing blow, Vlad answered with another relentless stab. And yet, when Pip glanced at the man, he seemed generally content; Pip could go even further to say 'happy'. But that was Vlad's extent. Just happy-looking. No doubt, hundreds of calculations were running through his head as he watched Pip's moves in order to figure out his own next move.

Pip feinted right and juked Vlad, confusing the soldier for a moment. Pip then watched Vlad make up for it by thrusting his sword forward at the man; but the guard was two steps ahead, for once, and ducked himself beneath Vlad's arm. To Pip's utter astonishment, Vlad rotated his sword and slipped it underneath his arm to stab Pip behind him square in the chest with the tip facing the opposite direction Vlad was.

"Where in the Hell do you learn to fight like this?" Pip laughed, exasperated, as he backed away and watched Vlad turn around, spinning his sword back to his side.

"I was bred to kill," Vlad said without much emotion, "When your life depends on how good you fight, usually the poor ones do not last long."

Pip somberly nodded, "I see."

Vlad's face animated back to its charming brilliance once more, "You're doing better than I could have imagined. There is one thing, though. You are trying to hit where I am, not where I am going to be. And it takes an especially trained eye to read your opponent's moves like that."

Pip's face fell slightly. "I knew it. It's not worth the trouble, is it?"

Vlad snorted in derision, "I did not say that. I think, with some training, you could be the next best duelist in all of Hungary."

"Whaaaat?"

The soldier sighed, "Do not make me say it again, guard."

Pip's Cheshire grin seemed to split his cheeks in half as he sheathed his sword and fist-punched the air, "Alright!"

Vlad sheathed his own weapon and leaned against a dummy, "What with the Turneul Cavalerilor, you may have a chance of at least impressing Seras in the Grand Melee."

Pip jerked his head to the side, as if the words 'Seras' and 'Grand Melee' were two separate slaps to the face, "W-what?"

Vlad nonchalantly raised his eyebrows and laughed airily, "Oh, that's right. You do not yet know the news. The Regent is hosting a celebration of sorts for his birthday, and is also intending to marry Seras off to some knight who registers. Everyone in the kingdom is apparently invited."

Pip shook angrily, "Mon dieu, he plans on selling her to the highest bidder like a heifer."

Vlad blinked at the first two words out of his mouth but then heard a faint gasp in the corner by the bushes he'd looked at earlier. He turned to Pip and decided to slowly approach the area. Pip followed in his footsteps soundlessly as they came closer…closer…

Vlad began to hear sniffling and whispering as he armed himself, unsure if a spy was hiding or not. Recognizing one of the voices, he grinned and parted the greenery with his sword. Integra was wiping tears off of Seras's cheek, probably from what Vlad had just stated. Watching the backs of two lovely young women turn around and look at him in shock was all too rewarding.

"My Ladies…" Vlad concealed his weapon and held out a hand for any of the two to pick.

They both looked at each other and then at his intrusive appendage with severe distrust. They stood on their own. Integra was the first to speak.

"It is not…It is not what it looks like," she tried, half confused if she should even be attempting to defend herself.

She knew her face was probably red with embarrassment, but the origin of the feeling was not born from getting caught here, in the target range. It was from the last time she had seen him, from the last time they had spoken; the time that she spewed her guts out and over the second balcony for all to see, with him holding her in that soft yet strong embrace to ensure her balance and safety, no doubt the heroic act grounded within his own selfish gains. Even now, with the memory still fresh in her mind, Integra felt the barely-healed scar of her dignity tear once again as Vlad's body language exuded pride. She met his gaze with her own, all the same. She could exude pride too, if only externally.

"Of course not," Vlad enveloped his words in sarcasm, "It does not look like you were spying on us in curiosity at all. It's clear to me that you wish to know how to improve your skills, or did you think I was not aware of the fact that you constantly sneak out to this place?"

Integra's eyes widened for a moment, but she quickly controlled herself and shook her head, "You think I want to improve my already exceptional skills by watching _you_?" she said with evident disgust, "Heaven, forbid me so! You lack a particular…_grace_…that is needed to be a true duelist."

The soldier recoiled slightly from her comment and frowned, "Then perhaps you wish to show me just how superior you are," he challenged.

Seras jumped in between them for a moment, "Integra, sister, we really must be going! If father sees you and I here, he will chain us to the walls of our rooms before dinner! And what's worse is that it will be on Walter's head! You know this! Reason with yourself!"

The elder princess felt her mind gain back the reins of her sanity for a fleeting moment as Seras looked up into her eyes. They begged her to reconsider Vlad's challenge, and based on their sentiment at the moment, she nearly forfeited. But as Integra watched Vlad control himself from snickering, her blood boiled with rage once more. She pulled the tassels from her shawl, draped on her collar, and let it fall to the ground. She stepped out of the safety of the bush and straight up to the soldier with an air of arrogant confidence.

"Let us not keep a girl waiting," Integra walked to the center circle where Vlad and Pip were not five minutes earlier.

"As you wish, my Lady," Vlad winked and headed over to the circle with her.

Seras and Pip watched on in horrid fascination as both people saluted each other, and the duel began.

.•*´¨`*•.

"IT'S TIME TO D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-D-DUEL!" …(anyone?) :D

There are three things you do **NOT** do to Integra: take her cigars, question her intelligence as a woman, and make fun of her swordsmanship. There will be blood. Oh-ho-ho yes!

Okay, for those who might be lost –in Chapter 4 (Clarification)– Integra and Seras find a hidden target range complete with dummies stuffed with hay and fabric with bulls eyes painted on it. So that's where they were during that scene.

Also, Turneul Cavalerilor means Knights Tournament in Romanian. I know, it's not Hungarian, but I don't trust Google Translate, and I have family in Romania.

Also, yes, Pip meant to say those two French words. I cannot un-make the fact that he will always be awesomely French in my eyes, with a touch of swearing-sailor in him as well. We will learn later on how he ended up here, in Hungary. (Oh, and it's probably not going to be super mysterious. It's probably just going to be a side explanation like 'Yeah, my ancestors moved here in the 1100s', or something.)

Anyway, as you can see, nothing really goes on in 1452, so I'm having fun here. I've always wanted to do a tournament! So excited! So excited!


	15. Entangled

**A/N:** And the plot thickens. Vlad is nothing but trouble, trouble, trouble! Poor Integra. I can tell you in advance that I had WAAAY too much fun torturing her in this chapter. I think Vlad liked the idea of it, though. I love to feed his darker side. Who fricking doesn't?

I guess you guys just like your lemony scenes, don't you? Though it's not as lemony as I could have made it, I suppose. And at this point I can't help myself anymore.

Mmm, so many paragraphs for reviews! Me likies! :3

I dedicate this chapter, then, to all of the people reading this who want Integra and Vlad to commence the steamyness!

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Entanglement

Seras scooted over to stand next to Pip, just as confused and baffled, both wondering how they were going to possibly explain themselves if someone did happen to stumble into this fight. She nervously glanced up at him and watched his eyes wander to her own, only to flick back to the battle.

"My Lady," he nodded, "Are you alright?"

Seras cleared her throat; it suddenly felt dry and scratchy, "I'm well, thank you. I was not aware of my father's intentions. I apologize for my sniffling outburst earlier."

Pip turned so swiftly to her that she nearly jumped, "Never apologize. You have every right to feel what you feel, I think."

Seras shook her head, "As it turns out, I will not be able to escape nobility politics. I face the chopping block right behind Integra."

Pip sighed in frustration and inched closer to her. He was itching to reach out and grab her into a hug, but he knew it wouldn't be appropriate. Even if she were dying in his arms, it would not be appropriate. He was a simple guard, without higher status or noble or even royal blood. He was a commoner, and such idle fantasies of being with Seras had no place amidst the reality. He knew that much. And yet…

"Are _you_ alright?" she asked this time.

"Yes," he lied and turned back around. Looking at her intensified his feelings tenfold.

Integra and Vlad were circling one another like two rams about to butt heads to the death. She glared at him something fierce, and his twisted smile was a match to the tinder of Integra's rage.

She kept her sword at her side and continued to watch her opponent. He looked at her with equal interest, not forgetting to distract her by generously stopping his eyes at every accentuated part of her body. Integra seethed at his outrageous and completely shameless behavior, but she made sure that he did not compromise her concentration.

"You may stare at me to your heart's content," Integra reinforced, "Such acts of regression do not sway me."

"Then you truly are mistaken, because the blush on your cheeks tells a different tale," Vlad grinned even wider and readied his weapon.

The princess unsheathed her rapier and let the comment ride off of her shoulders. She was repaid with the honor of seeing shock flash across his facial features for a split second at her lack of emotions to his tantalizing previous comment. In a blink, it was gone faster than it had come. In return, Integra smiled triumphantly already, figuring out how to defeat him simply by having no physiological response to his words.

He jerked towards her in an attempt to make her flinch and raise her weapon in defense. It failed.

She laughed at him.

"Do you really think rudimentary tricks are going to fool me?" her eyes sparkled with superiority.

Vlad shook his head, "No, it was a test. You forget that this is not only a battle of physical strength, but a battle of the minds as well for who is the cleverest."

"I never forget," Integra slashed out at him and watched him easily dodge, "You are the one who is forgetting the fact that I lived in the presence of nobility my whole life. Fools were shucked off quickly."

"Then why do you bother wasting your time by talking to me?" he asked, and this time she twitched. Vlad gracefully spun in a circle and lunged for her backside.

She quickly bent down to avoid the swipe and felt her hair whipped by the horizontal arc of his blade. In her crouched position, she used all of her force to swipe her own sword directly at his feet, causing him to leap into the air to avoid it.

"Clever girl," he muttered under his breath and slammed his rapier down to the ground.

Integra somersaulted to the side and into another crouched position. She bounced to her feet and scoffed.

"It was my mistake then, for thinking that you could keep up with me," she stated with false sincerity as she placed one hand over her heart in 'sympathy', "I know it is sometimes a little difficult to comprehend my power and what I'm capable of doing."

"Take care with what you say, my Lady, for only I know those words jest," he politely warned.

Integra chuckled, "How should I say it then? _Softer_?" She batted her sultry and beckoning eyes.

He paused for a moment, and that was when she noticed that he was truly looking at her. Perhaps for the first time, he was looking her in the face and actually _seeing_ her. He stepped back for a moment, as if to mentally save the picture, and she stopped to look at him with a confused expression on her face.

"Do you really even know the power you hold within your words, my Lady?" he asked, no malice within them.

Integra smugly beamed back at him, "I do."

Vlad rolled a hay bale on its side and stepped on top of it. He then launched himself off of it and whaled down with his sword. Integra, taken off guard at his sudden and hostile motion, leaped backwards and gasped in anger, her eyes returning to their ardent fury once more.

"Your deception with your womanly wiles has no affect on me," Vlad relentlessly clashed swords with her.

Integra pulled her sword up quickly to block the first blow and the second, "Then you truly are mistaken, because the light that was awoken in your eyes tells a different tale."

His face was close to hers as he leaned into the swing; but on her comment he reflexively glanced away from Integra for a moment, concealing the portal into his soul as his eyes seemed to darken, "Such guile."

The pair continued to bash each other both physically and verbally once more.

Pip and Seras, a few paces away, looked at each other in confusion.

"So…tell me, Pip," Seras cocked her head as she watched the progression of the duel that was transforming into an all out fight, "Are they…?"

"Flirting?" Pip finished, "Yes." He chuckled openly and rolled his eyes, "Through wit, sharp tongues, and quick jutting motions, it's as good as intercourse to Vlad."

Seras felt her cheeks rise in temperature at his blunt language, "Oh…"

He instantly caught on and apologized, though a part of him wished desperately to desensitize her, "I'm sorry, princess. I foolishly forgot that I'm in the presence of a woman, and more importantly, a Lady." He mentally chided himself. "Do you not think that The Regent is happy for you, that you have a relatively secure future. I could think up worse scenarios than marrying a knight," he said acerbically -not the original intent he meant to put into it.

Seras refrained from shifting her eyes in his direction, "I try not to trouble myself with what others think. I take after my sister in that way."

He nodded in agreement and added sarcastically, "Yes, who would ever care about what your subjects think, what the ruler thinks, what your advisors think, or even what the common people think? Their opinions are completely unimportant."

Seras shook her head and moaned, "When it comes to my mental health, yes, unimportant. When it comes to ruling a country, no. But since I will not be ruling the country, I needn't worry."

"Ah, yes. The freedom of men to be rulers is also what binds them. Their actions must be well thought out, their choices wise, and their manner gracious. Do you not enjoy watching their little dance to please everyone in the kingdom as well as fight wars while also maintaining the solidification of their country? Do you not _envy_ it?" Pip asked, mockery laced within his voice.

Seras played along, "Ah, but I have the intense pleasure of _observing_ it so _closely_ to the side!"

Pip laughed and Seras giggled as the jokes continued to pour out of his mouth. The slander with which he tied each one to was worse than sucking on a lemon, but the zing that accompanied every ending was worth listening to and had truth woven into it, even if Pip did have a mouth on him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have too much cheek?" she laughed again, and this time held onto her stomach to remind herself to breathe.

Pip paused, "Only the _refined_ people such as yourself. Everyone else simply knows it's me talking."

She controlled herself once more, "I know. It's just if you spoke like that to my father or to Lord Anderson…you could get into a right bad mess."

"Of course I know," he chuckled carelessly, "I'm an ass, not an idiot."

"One does not preclude the other!" she exclaimed, half shocked he should say such an outrageous statement. He must have been only half sober.

Pip looked at her pleasingly, "Perhaps I trust you,"

What happened next completely threw off his mental compass.

She giggled, "You're brazen words may be a little…offensive…to some, but I find it a nice, refreshing breeze compared to all of the dressed up and sickly sweet mannerisms I have to face each day."

He playfully bumped shoulders with her and looked down, knowing and accepting that his next words would damn him, "Beneath my filthy words, there is truth to it, I promise. Or," Pip bore into her eyes, "I could just be attempting to make you blush," he stated with a seductive voice.

Seras paused and felt her breath catch in her throat. She wanted desperately to say something, anything to counter him, with a quick remark like Integra always could. But every muscle in her body froze as she watched him inch closer to her, reading what she wanted on the expression of her face. Seras began to feel the warmth emanate from his body as she began to inch closer and closer herself.

All of the small moments when seeing him in the hallway, the little grins and winks here and there, they were like teasers compared to what she knew was about to happen. He tilted his head to the side in anticipation for her lips and found his hands slowly take hold of her shoulders. Lifting herself up to her toes, Seras closed her eyes and felt his arms wrap around her in a comfortable embrace. Just as his lips brushed past hers, a loud grunt and laugh from Vlad caused both of them to jerk back.

"Are we really becoming that boring?" Vlad asked, a little annoyed that his audience's attention was driven elsewhere, "Perhaps we need to increase the stakes."

Integra paused, not hearing a word Vlad had said to look at Seras, her mouth open in a silent and horrified cry, her eyes fixed in a look of incredulous betrayal.

Vlad pounced on the opportunity gladly and slammed his rapier down, causing the elder princess to jump anywhere away from the noise. She fixed her gaze on Vlad, but he could still see the burning confusion in her face at what she had just seen. Integra suddenly roared in anger and lunged for Vlad, concentrating all of her rage and frustration, clearly fueled at what Seras did, straight into her opponent.

The soldier jerked back and lifted his sword to deflect any attack that she was going to throw at him; but instead of her weapon smacking against his, she twirled it by the blade in a circular motion with her own sword. As centrifugal force caused it to constrain itself to the circular path she was making, it slipped out of his hands and twirling straight up into the air.

Integra jumped up to grab the hilt and barely managed to do so when their feet twined together and caused her to slip on his boot. Accidentally tripping on her other foot, he instantly let off pressure so as to not crush her toes, but in the process found himself unbalanced by the fact that her other foot tripped on his own. They both fell, tumbling to the ground.

Vlad instinctively held his arms out to break his fall, and it was a good thing too, for he landed right on top of Integra with his elbows propped to the sides of her shoulders. She landed with a thud on her back, instantly feeling the itchy hay rub her backside. Integra heard Seras gasp, but it was a faint whisper compared to what her mind was screaming at her that moment.

The soldier, a few seconds before, right in front of her, now seemed completely comfortable where he was, and, by the satisfaction in his expression, Integra knew he had no inclination to move any time soon. Instead, Vlad inched his way up to get a good look at her face, and as he smiled she tried to drive her back further into the ground to gain some semblance of space, though there was none.

"Well now," Vlad murmured triumphantly, his black locks spilling over his shoulder and tickling Integra's nose, "Look at the dilemma we have here."

Integra froze for a second, almost trying to comprehend just what had happened, and when all Vlad did to help was grin and glance at her lips that were inches away from his, she felt butterflies erupt in a mountainous swarm within her stomach.

His body was heavy against hers, like a wall of iron that trapped her from moving. She felt it harder and harder to breathe, but not because of the weight of the matter; because of the proximity. Vlad expected her to say something; anything. To his surprise, she lay there, in silent terror and anticipation for what he was going to do to her next. Vlad inhaled her scent again, something he liked to do, and sighed happily.

"You are _so_ beautiful," he said, tone covered in reverence that Integra thought couldn't possibly be there. The comment clearly caught Integra off guard from his usual carnal-related remarks about her.

"Remove yourself, or regret it," Integra warned, trying to keep her voice steady, and remembered her two weapons. She lifted both swords and crossed them into an 'x' right at the base of his throat along with hardening her expression into a fierce glare.

He merely deigned to glance at it, "Armed _and_ commanding me around. _Delicious_," there was a ragged edge to his voice she did tried to ignore, but his ravenous eyes she had to face.

"Get off of me!" she spat in his eye and struggled once more.

Pip raced over, but then realized that he could not do much in the way of moving either of them, and he wasn't about to push Vlad off of her -his head would be rolling within minutes. The guard nervously glanced around at the watch towers and was thanking God that he saw no one looking down at the target range.

"Wallachian!" Pip barked, "You should relocate!"

Vlad waved his hand at Pip nonchalantly as he continued to rest on top of Integra. She squirmed under his gaze until she suddenly felt his hand brush aside one of her curls with his index finger and gently run it back through her hair, all the while Integra promising him that his throat would be slashed any second. As his hand dropped, it didn't miss the delicate curves of her cheeks and the dip in her neck, all the way down to her protruding collar bone. He closed his eyes, as if concentrating all of his senses on touch as he traced her soft skin. Integra paused from her rant as she felt goose-bumps flare up her spine and her breath catch.

"Stop, you oaf," she ordered. He paused and blinked, awakening from a daydream.

"I'd take the Lady's advice," a voice startled Integra.

She craned her neck at an awkward angle on the ground to see familiar boots walking towards them. Her eyes wandered up the person when she began to recognize the familiar attire. The man's brown hair was carefully combed behind his ears, his blue eyes darting between Integra and Vlad with blatant disgust, and he placed both hands on his hips.

"Walter," Integra croaked, "It…it is not what it looks like," she said the same sentence she told Vlad, still wondering how in the world it would work.

Walter shook his head, "No, _this_ time, you cannot pull the wool over my eyes. It's almost funny," he said bitterly, "I just returned from a discussion with Ladislaus. He asked me if I was with you when you first spoke with the Ottoman. Naturally, I knew you were trying to use me as your safeguard. I happily obliged, assuring him that you were, in no way, harboring any affection or attraction to this man," he nodded to Vlad, to enraged to even say his name, "Was I wrong to put so much faith in you?"

With each word, Integra felt her heart sinking lower and lower, until it finally splashed around in her stomach. The betrayal in his eyes broke every nerve in her body as she lay there, completely numb. She did not deserve to answer him. Vlad, sensing a possible brawl arising, slowly lifted himself from her body. He was careful not to step on or pull on anything. Once he was up and righted himself, he offered his hand to lift her up as well.

"If I ever see you near her again," Walter fixed his glare onto Vlad, "I will kill you myself." He opened his hand as another offer to Integra.

Integra sat up on her bottom and glanced at both hands, then at the expectant looks of each man. She angrily shunned Vlad's offered hand in an instant, first and foremost completely furious with him, but also knowing that if she did choose his hand, it would have communicated that she was alright with all of his previous, scandalous actions, which she was not. She slipped her hands into Walter's eagerly and felt him pull her up gently. Seras was already at his side, a mournful expression adorning her face.

Seras shot Vlad an accusing glare as the two women passed him, Integra refusing to look. Vlad, slightly annoyed, shrugged his shoulders and turned to Pip. His expression was a mixture of frustration, hate, and anguish -all of them known quite well to Vlad. Once Walter and his ladies rounded the corner and were showered with greenery once more, Pip turned to Vlad.

"Do you have any idea as to how close I was in kissing her?" he asked irately.

Vlad closed his eyes and sighed, his arms gesturing to his imaginary audience, "Yes, yes, we all know of your infatuation with the girl, but ultimately, you're too inexperienced. You should have grabbed her by the waist and kissed her, not all this anticipation. You have to grasp what you want, and quickly."

"What, like you did? Such gracefulness, yes, it worked flawlessly," Pip retorted.

Vlad chuckled, "Yes, it would have been, were it not for her manservant's appearance. I haven't seen _that_ look of hatred in a man's eye for a long while. Even the Regent's glare was softer."

"Perhaps it is because Walter is with her nearly every hour of every day," Pip suggested obviously, "He's played the role of 'big brother' when Ladislaus was absent, and 'father' when The Regent was away as well. He cherishes Integra and Seras like blood…more than blood, so do not get any ideas of seeing her again. Walter is known for keeping his promises."

"My dear man-at-arms," Vlad pivoted to Pip, a smirk on his lips and the devil's mischief in his eyes, "I survived the Ottoman Empire's wrath; what is one man to me from obtaining that which I want?"

Pip rolled his eyes and raised his hands to cradle his head, "Savior, preserve us."

.•*´¨`*•.

Yaaay awkward scenes for the win!

Oh deary me, what is Vlad planning? It has now become obvious as to whom Vlad wants. And what he wants, he usually gets. …Usually.

I love to tantalize you, my dears. It's just so much fun to have you all worry over if Integra and Vlad are ever going to fall for each other. (insert legendary troll face here)

I can tell you that Integra has MORE than enough material to hate him...yet she does not :)

~Rapiers were once actually pretty decent-sized swords back in the day before they were shortened to true dueling weapons. Also, I'm just basing the duel on what I've seen in movies :D So I don't want to offend any of you master swordsman out there, because I know that in the 1600s(?) they perfected the game. I bow to thee *takes bow* I imagine, though, that at its inception dueling was rather rugged, dirty, and that blood was spilt~

And Yes,**Soul93**, I know, once again, the chapter is too short…isn't it? :P

To**Shinkicker:**

:3


	16. Dissonance

**A/N:** MEANWHILE…

Yay. Ladislaus and Vlad back on the road again. Where's Donkey from Shrek to whistle a tune for us?

Oh, and for those inquiring Victor's presence, I can assure you he will arrive on stage in the next act. Fear not, all the men in my story are nothing less than insanely handsome :3

Kinda have to speed things up a bit here. I reread everything for the nth time and it finally dawned on me that it was going a lot slower than I intended it to :P Some call it sidetracking; I call it being thorough, but whatever it is, I should speed things along to the next main event. Hehe.

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

* * *

><p>Dissonance<p>

"Preparations, tell me they were made!" Anderson opened his arms in exasperation, "I am telling you all, servants, that this grand hall must be filled by this afternoon. Guests will be arriving very shortly!"

Men and women scurried around the premises with flowers, dishes, furniture, sheets, and even props all to their places. Hallways were cramped and packed with bodies rushing this way and that, parts being collected and relocated. All the while, Anderson felt himself the composer of this chaos and desperately tried to rein it in. He had servants form a line with all manner of things in their hands, watching as they raised their arms in confusion as to where it went, and finding himself pointing all over to places in the castle. It was beginning to exhaust Anderson, who now frantically tried to find Walter.

"Yes, that goes in the Knights Hall…No, that must be placed in the kitchen…What are you doing, ya daft idiot? That is fragile, set it down over there…Yes, put that on the table…No, do not touch that; it's worth more than you! _That_ stays where it is," Anderson groaned.

The Regent abruptly opened the doors and nearly ran over to Anderson –The Regent, a man not easily rushed. He paused to catch his breath briefly before beginning.

"I have…I have…well, news!" he clapped his hands together.

"What is it, my lord?" Anderson asked in fright that he had probably ordered someone to the incorrect station.

"Victor," The Regent started, " It's been rumored that Victor, against the will of his father, George, whom we all know, snuck out of their encampment on the journey over here. He left a note stating that he could wait no longer in setting his eyes upon the "Fair Maiden of Hungary", as Integra has been charged with," he grinned.

Anderson paused, "My lord, I do not know what to make of it, whether I should call him keen, or the fool. It is a dangerous road to get here."

"Yes, it is at that. Perhaps I only saw his blinding affection for her already," The Regent considered what Anderson said, "I suppose I was just…concerned that he would not care for her. The Lord knows that respecting your spouse and truly caring for one another is the key to longevity."

Anderson cleared his throat, "Yes…" he stated a little awkwardly.

The Regent snapped from his dream-like trance back to reality, "How foolish of me to say such things in front of you."

"My lord," Anderson paused to direct a few more servants to their posts, "It is not that I have never felt affection for another, I just chose to follow the life of the book," he held up the bible gently and pressed it to his chest, "There is no greater love than that of our Lord," but then his face slightly changed, "However, I will gladly exterminate the infestation of Islam within the castle, if you so wish."

His ruler ignored the last comment and chuckled for a moment and shook his head when Anderson waited for his input, "Silence that nagging voice in your head that worries about Islam. There is no infection or infestation; calm down. Vlad is of no concern to you. I do not believe he will be present for the feast tomorrow, and if he is I expect him to be civil. And speaking of which, where is he?" The Regent questioned.

Anderson shrugged, "I'd sooner assume that he left to join the Ottomans before planning a party for you. I haven't seen him for a day or two, and he made me do this by myself," he increasingly raised his voice in irritation.

The Regent frowned, concerned, and turned to one of the guards. "You there!"

Pip casually turned around, "Yes, my lord?"

"Fetch Vladimir for me, will you? I need him to do some things for me."

"Right away!" Pip jogged off.

The Regent nodded approvingly and turned around to leave his Royal Vizier to the servants once more, much to Anderson's dismay.

* * *

><p>Ladislaus clucked his horse forward through the morning's mist as his eyes darted around what little landscape he could see. It had taken them half of a week's ride to arrive at Bagamér, as it was on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Hungary, but what bothered the young prince was the fact that the village was dead-quiet.<p>

Usually by this late in the morning, though foggy mist blanketed the terrain, farmers would have begun inspecting their crops and tending to them, and smithies would have started to stoke the beginning flames on their fireplace of what would usually be a long and tiring day. Yet there was no life to the village as Ladislaus, Vlad, and the few dozen cavalrymen they could spare, entered the place.

The only thing that approached them was an eerie cold wind. Inhaling a breath, Vlad recognized the smell.

Death.

A door creaked in the wind and startled the men at the sudden loud and screeching noise. Ladislaus heard anxious whispers from his men behind him and turned around.

"Steady, men. Steady," he called and continued forward.

Vlad concentrated on the door when he thought he heard something fall inside the house. Pulling back on the reins, he stopped his horse and dismounted. He tied the two thick ropes of leather around a hitching post and slowly made his way to the creaking door. Soldiers paused their wandering gazes to look at him in weary curiosity, each of their hands on the hilts of their swords; but not for the reason of the 'Ottoman' walking on foot out and about. It was for fear of what was behind the ominous door.

"Vladimir!" Ladislaus barked, "What are you doing?"

"Shh!" Vlad hushed the prince harshly and continued on his path.

Ladislaus huffed in anger as Vlad challenged his authority, but stayed silent well enough. The prince was curious as well, and let Vlad's disrespectful behavior slide this time.

Vlad was now at the base of the steps, one hand resting on his armed belt. He was about to open the door with his free hand when his eyes focused on the shutters of the windows. They were smashed in, and the door was slightly ajar. The man pushed the door open carefully so as to avoid turning the door completely off of its hinges. It creaked loudly in protest, but allowed his entry.

Vlad's eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkened setting. He instantly saw that belongings had been smashed. Plates were shattered, counters were broken into jagged blocks of wood, fabric was ripped to pieces, and feathers from pillows laid strewn about the room looking almost like white ash. There had clearly been destruction here. Vlad stepped lightly into the next room and saw blood sprayed from ceiling to floor in a clean arc. The next room looked similar, as did the next. The man drew his weapon and finally made it to the master bedroom. There, piled in a neat stack, were the bodies of the family. Vlad covered his nose from the stench and grunted, not affected by the blood at all.

Glancing down, he noticed that his boots were now sloshing around in a lake of what was once dried blood. He paid no mind to it, until he realized that the corpses of the bodies were far drained of their blood and had been long since deceased for it to still be wet. That was when he heard the whispers. Whipping his head forward to glance dubiously at the bodies, he saw them neither move nor inhale to speak. Whirling his body around to what was behind him, he saw nothing. Turning to both of his sides, there was no one near his ear either. Perplexed, he decided to relax and focus. Vlad made sure to loosen up his shoulders and breathe calmly. After a few deep inhalations, he heard it. There. The whispers again.

This time, Vlad concentrated from where they were coming. Yet every time he thought he could pinpoint their location, they vanished . The echoes almost sounded ethereal…

_Vladimir…sss…_

_Power…sss…through the currency of life…_

Vlad concentrated harder and felt himself squint his eyes tightly shut.

_Vladimir III…son of Vladimir II…drink…life eternal…power…strength…sss…_

"What?" Vlad heard himself audibly ask, though only a breeze answered him -a breeze in an enclosed room. It rippled the blood underneath him, which made him notice the movement and look down. When his eyes met his dampened and discolored boots, he heard the whispers cease with one word.

_Yesss…_

Vlad cocked his head to the side and squatted down, his expression slightly disturbed. His eyes widened as he suddenly felt a sensation crawl up his spine that pushed him closer to the liquid. Breaking his fall into the puddle with an outstretched hand, Vlad craned his head behind him to find no one touching his backside. Vlad's heart began to race as he instantly stood up and shook the blood from his gauntlets.

"Begone, spirits," Vlad turned from the room, not truly believing what he was saying. As he shut the door promptly, he thought for a moment that they said he would 'return'.

Swiftly making his way back to the front of the house, he could see through broken windows that the men and Ladislaus were still awaiting his return.

Vlad opened the door hastily, in the process startling some soldiers, and paced himself back to his horse. He quickly mounted Hadúr and grabbed hold of the reins. It was then that he realized Ladislaus was staring at him.

"Do you need something?" Vlad curtly asked, his mind still elsewhere.

Ladislaus shook his head slowly, "No…but _you_ might. Your face is extremely pale…are you ill?"

"No," was Vlad's terse response.

Ladislaus made an incredulous noise, "Hmm, you simply look like you saw a ghost." When Vlad looked at him strangely, the prince continued, "You know -a spirit of the past?"

"_Blasphemy_," Vlad kicked his horse forward, "All of the inhabitants of the house are dead. This was not a protest or an uprising of the village's people. This was a massacre."

Ladislaus's eyebrows knitted in anger, "The mist cleared while you were inside, so I took a quick look around and saw more bodies at the center of the village. Someone along the chain of command received the wrong information, because I could see your exact point. This was an attack. Bagamér's people were fine."

Vlad nodded his head, "There can be only one explanation for this."

Ladislaus turned to him, "Ottomans." He spat the word out as if it were cursed.

"...Perhaps," Vlad regarded the notion.

* * *

><p>Pip nervously fidgeted with his gloves as he approached his ruler. He had NEVER lost anyone under his surveillance before, and the fact that it was secretly a friend made it all the more bitter. How in the world could Vlad have snuck out from his duty not only to the castle in shaping it up for the celebration, but also from his duty to appeal to The Regent. Had he forgotten the fact that he was treading ever so lightly on eggshells with his alliance to Hunyadi?<p>

Sneaking away was a blatant disregard for orders, on top of disrespecting the man, The Regent, who was staying the people that wished to end his life, and who could just as easily step aside to let Vlad get fed to the wolves -the fine line that would define Vlad's survival being if Vlad cooperated with what The Regent wanted. And it was the most generous Pip had ever seen The Regent become.

It was a very charitable exchange, which made it so confusing that Vlad would flee.

Pip's thoughts were interrupted by the fact that he was nearly to his ruler.

"Umm…Milord…" Pip stuttered.

"Yes, my good sir," The Regent smiled and turned around from his desk of maps, "You have my undivided attention." He clasped his hands together.

"Err…" Pip fumbled with his hands and glanced at the ground, "I cannot…I cannot find him, Sir…"

The Regent's face leveled to a blank stare, "What do you mean? He simply…vanished?"

Pip shook his head, "No…he…uh…I found out that he left with Ladislaus to Bagamér …"

"WHAT? "

"Sir-"

"THAT WAS A DIRECT VIOLATION OF ORDERS!" his veins grew to the sizes of asparaguses, cording around his neck's thick muscles and reddening with each second.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I think he might have convinced Ladislaus to go with the men…either that or Ladislaus was not aware of your orders that Vlad was not to go with them."

"I did not mention to Ladislaus that Vladimir was forbidden in going with him. I thought Vladimir understood me when I said he was to stay here, within the walls of the castle. I thought Vlad would stay where he was commanded to stay. Clearly, he had wax in his ears," The Regent began to breathe heavily, "Upon his return, bring Vlad to me directly."

Pip shuddered at the darkness of his voice and nodded vehemently, "…of course, my lord."

* * *

><p>"Here," Ladislaus motioned to give Vlad a piece of cloth, "Do you know what this is? I could make out Arabic scripture, but most of it has been ripped."<p>

Vlad gently took the cloth and examined it. Ladislaus saw his eyes begin to cloud in denial.

"This…this is the lion of Ismail. I recognize it, but only because of what it used to represent in the scriptures I read in Edirne…" Vlad's voice sounded hoarse.

"Well?" the prince pressed.

The Wallachian looked up at the prince, shaking his head, "You have probably heard of them."

"Of whom?"

"The _Ḥashshāshīn_, or, as they are now called, Assassins. Derived from the hashish herb that was used as part of their initiation into the cult. Or so people thought. There have been other writings that their name derived from the word Asasiyun, meaning people who are faithful to the _Asās_, "foundation" of the faith. They were supposed to have been wiped out. The point is that I have not caught news of them for years. They lurk in the shadows, and I even heard that they sneak so furtively around that they do not cast their own shadows. Untraceable. They leave behind them next to no evidence, and leave only conclusions that we wish to see. Had I not been given this piece of fabric, we would have seen this as done by Ottoman soldiers. But, I'm afraid we've awoken something much more…indirectly lethal."

Ladislaus growled in frustration, "I found the fabric in the outstretched palm of a dead villager who managed to rip it from one of their cloaks. Why would they attack a bordering village? Was this a message?"

"Indeed," Vlad agreed, "They are contract killers, hired to assassinate their target. We have clearly upset someone, and we cannot attack something that we cannot see."

"Men! Spread out five in a group and search for any survivors!" Ladislaus ordered and swallowed hard. He defiantly shifted his shoulders to Vlad, "If they were any manner of men, they would face us and fight. If they cannot best us honestly and honorably, they should yield!"

"Then you misunderstand their purpose. Their existence is not to be a soldier or to fight honorably. It is to be a rogue -to be hidden where no one can find you, unless they look close enough. And when they feel exposed, they vanish into the shadows from whence they came."

"To be hidden in plain sight…Wait," Ladislaus held up a hand, "You said that this was a message. This was the Assassins boldly marking their territory, that they have arrived on the scene_. I think I know why_," he paused until he knew he had Vlad's undivided attention, "What is concurrently happening?"

Vlad frowned at him for a moment before something clicking in his mind, "The Regent's celebration. It is a yearly occurrence."

"Precisely," Ladislaus stated, but not with triumph; with dread, "His party is in less than a week, and suddenly we get a message that Bagamér is uprising against Hungary. Now we realize that the village was, instead, attacked by Assassins."

"This does not add up," Vlad turned his horse in a circle to quickly glance at his surroundings, thankful that the mist had dispersed. He could clearly see the streaks of blood across the ground everywhere, and he could even see that some houses were burnt down, "Why would a messenger tell us the wrong information?"

Ladislaus felt his heart stop, "Vladimir…"

He did not hear.

"Vladimir," Ladislaus curtly said, "Look at some of these bodies," he motioned to a few lying on the ground, "I am no expert of embalming the dead or determining death, but these bodies look older and more decomposed into the ground than the couple of days it took to arrive here."

Vlad, suddenly realizing his own experience in the small house, skimmed the bodies and tried to avoid looking at the blood as he noticed that most of the wildlife had chewed off the husks and bones began protruding outward. Flies had attacked the sockets of what once were eyes, and their skin had withered away to now what looked like leather stretched over too much canvas.

"Felség!" a rough voice called. One of the cavalrymen trotted up to Ladislaus with a pail of water. He peered inside and saw a dead and rotted animal, once presumably a raccoon, perhaps.

"What am I looking at?" Ladislaus asked, clearly irritated from the way his train of thought was interrupted.

"This was retrieved from the well in the middle of the village, my lord. The water has been poisoned by the dead and infected flesh of the rodent."

Ladislaus's head snapped up to Vlad's. "Then now we know it really was them. Classic way to kill off the people into manageable bites."

"Ladislaus," Vlad pointed to the bodies, "You are correct. This battle happened long before we came here. In fact, I don't believe we would have arrived to save these people in time. They were already dead by the time we received the fallacious message."

The prince's breath caught in his throat, "Vladimir, the _messenger_! He was neither from the village nor any neighboring village that might have seen this slaughtering. He was a part of it! I shall bet you anything that the messenger _is_ an assassin himself!"

Vlad paused for a moment, "That would explain the very late message and how it was wrong…and it would explain why we never heard from him again, or housed him for the night. He seemed to tip us off to Bagamér and then…"

"Disappear…" Ladislaus whispered, "That means that my father is in danger of being assassinated, and we are the only ones who are informed of this treachery!"

Vlad's thoughts instantly snapped to Integra like an elastic band, "This was a set up from the very beginning. They were hoping to lure us out and away from the castle. Far away from it so that they could perform their destruction, and possibly overthrow, without us there."

Ladislaus whistled to his men loudly, "Gather up! Form ranks! We leave back to the castle, NOW!" he briefly turned to Vlad, "The assassins wished to spread us thin. If their desire is to assassinate my father, then they aim to kill the lineage, which means I am also a prospective target."

Vlad rode next to his superior and smiled at the man, "I will not allow harm to come to you, my lord."

Ladislaus blinked, "That's…strangely comforting, to hear you say that. Don't do it again," he smiled back.

Vlad chuckled, but the moment was short-lived when he remembered what day it was, "Ladislaus, we will never reach the castle in time. It took us nearly a week to arrive here on horseback with cavalrymen, no less. What possibly makes you think we could return by tomorrow night's feast?"

"Simple," Ladislaus gathered his reins, "We did not know that our fortified castle was going to be under attack from the inside out, until just now. I believe we can make haste and return, but the more we sit here and debate, the less likely it will be."

Vlad grinned and kicked Hadur's side, "Then we ride!"

Ladislaus steered his horse to the front of the line, noticing that there were fewer men in their ranks. He eyed them, confused and walked his horse up to one of them.

"Soldier, where are the rest of the men?"

The man looked around his horse, puzzled, and scratched his head, "Umm, Chiscop and Stefan's men were right behind me, my lord, not two moments ago…"

Soldiers paused to look around at one another and only counted twenty men.

"The madness," Ladislaus shook his head, "Am I going to have to make a search party for them? This village is small. How could they possibly get lost?" he kicked his horse and passed Vlad.

"Stop," the Wallachian ordered with such weight that the prince halted his mount. Vlad scanned the rolling hills that surrounded Bagamér and caught sight of something flashing in the sunlight. It glinted and sparkled for a moment before being concealed in the shadow of the trees once more. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

Ladislaus, following Vlad's gaze, turning his to the hills as well, and caught a glimpse of another sparkling object that seemed half-way buried into the grass. There was only one thing that would do that. And suddenly the grass that covered the hills began to move in one fluid motion.

"ASSASSINS!" Vlad shouted at the top of his lungs and galloped toward Ladislaus.

The prince suddenly heard the sound of air whipping past his head. He glanced to his side and watched the soldiers around him fall to the ground, pierced easily as the arrows penetrated their armor. Crossbows. Horses ran screaming away in a blind terror at what was happening, causing their riders to fall. Ladislaus hunched his body as much as possible and clung to his horse's neck as he heard the desperate pleas of his men inundate his ears. Not trusting his eyes, he closed them tightly and kicked his mount as hard as he could. Suddenly sensing that Vlad was not at his side, the prince looked wildly around him, shield covering his chest for what little support that would ensure.

There! To the left!

Ladislaus saw the silhouette of Vlad's image. The Wallachian was charging a group of assassins on horseback with naught but his sword. Not believing his eyes, or his actions, Ladislaus found himself riding towards Vlad in a bewildering rage with his own sword tipped at the enemy. A battle cry exited the prince's lips as he cantered up to the assassins and whacked a crossbow out of one of their hands. The assassin next to the prince began to pull out his own weapon when Ladislaus made his mark. His enemy gasped in pain as a sword was impaled into his shoulder and twisted, visibly sawing off his limb.

Vlad shouted as he dashed one opponent and then another. He blocked his enemies' strikes deftly with the long hilt of his sword if his blade could not suffice in length and would then raise the dagger in his other hand to twist at one of his enemy's torsos. Taking two at a time, he soon found himself overwhelmed by sheer numbers, and he also watched as more reinforcements along the hills began to set up their crossbows. Vlad looked to his right and was about to strike another enemy when he realized that it was Ladislaus.

"What are you doing?" Vlad clashed swords with another assassin, "My lord, you are supposed to be guiding the men back!"

Ladislaus deflected his opponent's weapon and chuckled, "And what, let you have all the credit of killing the famed assassins?"

"Then you are a fool!" Vlad shouted and sliced off an assassin's hand.

His superior growled in anger, "You may think you can take all of them, but they are surrounding us! We must leave!"

"Then leave!" Vlad was barely able to deflect the hits not plundering his armor, "Get out alive, and I will be the distraction!"

Ladislaus shook his head, "I cannot leave without you! My father needs you!"

Vlad looked at Ladislaus in shock, that he would so readily say such a thing. The prince's pride stripped away, all he had left was to be humble, and humble he would be.

"My family needs you! You are the only thing standing in the way of the Ottoman Empire. They need your skill in combat and they need your knowledge and your ingenious plans. You are too valuable of an asset to lose, and I will not allow your death on my watch!" Ladislaus punched two men in the throat and gutted another.

Vlad paused as he watched what little remained of his cavalrymen gather their strength and join them in battle. Looking at them, beaten and battered but not yet dead, fighting for their last breath, made him swell in pride as he turned to his prince to agree that they could take their leave. But no sooner had Vlad turned around when he saw Ladislaus's armor pierced by a crossbow's arrow with an amazingly loud, metal-cracking 'thud'.

The prince's jaw dropped for an instant as his body swayed in the saddle. Vlad heard the choked and strangled gasps of the prince and cringed as he instantly rode up next to the man. The Wallachian faintly heard himself shouting his comrade's name angrily, but it sounded like an echo compared to the artillery fire now being used against them as the assassin cavalrymen dispersed.

Vlad was furious! At what, he did not know. Here this man was, who hated him thoroughly, cursed him to hell and back, and yet looking at him mortally wounded and in peril infuriated Vlad. Naught would have pleased him more than to personally murder each and every assassin, and slowly. The contradicting feelings within him were confusing, but he pushed all of them aside to help the fading prince.

Ladislaus's head lolled to the side as he tried to grip the arrow embedded in the upper right side of his chest with his free hand, but settled on screaming in agony instead. His wounded shoulder was not responding, and he couldn't even find the strength to lift his right hand up to hold the reins. The prince began to breathe heavily as his vision blurred, his eyes resting intently on the gathering enemies up on the hill above them. And then there was a person grabbing him.

Vlad wrapped one arm around Ladislaus's lower torso and lifted Ladislaus's left leg over and onto Hadúr's neck. In one heaving motion, Vlad lifted the prince up and planted him on Vlad's horse. Scooting back behind the saddle, Vlad rested Ladislaus into the saddle for balance and encircled his arms around Ladislaus as a sort of barrier to keep the man from falling to the sides. Kicking Hadúr forward, the two went bounding off, thankful for the cavalrymen who were left to stay behind.

With his last conscious breath, Ladislaus shouted, "RETREAT!"

* * *

><p>No! Not Ladislaus! Nooooo! Such a good foil character!<p>

-You ask me, "Hey Ev, are those arrows tipped in poison?"

-To which...I grin evilly.

This chappie...I'd wanted to change some things. Bah, whatever. I love it so far, and it's only going to get more twisted. Nice touch on the whole Vlad-hearing-voices-already. Yesssss, my readers...yessss...

Oh, and I'm not entirely sure if you authors listen to music while creating chapters, but I listen to classical usually. It is the only music that doesn't drown out the character's voices, for me at least. And the scenes are usually inspiring by the music and vice versa. It's a mutual relationship! I'll put on a sweet song if it's on Integra and Vlad, or I'll put on Two Steps From Hell if it's a battle scene...Like this one :3

Wow, tangent. Away with me to work.


	17. Arrivals

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm really glad that people liked the previous chapter. I was a little nervous as to how it would be received…but positive all around! And I also take into account every suggestion that you guys make. I've read a couple intriguing ones, so good on you for being perceptive!

Okay…so I know that they technically shouldn't be addressed as "Highness", or "Princess" until Matthias is decided to be king much, much later…but I can't HELP IT. I know that the regent is just a noble, but Integra would be nothing less than a princess in my mind. And Matthias does become the king, so I'll just bend the title a liiittle bit. Sometimes.

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

* * *

><p>Arrivals<p>

"Victor! Victor, I told you to wait! Son of a mad king, wait!" Seneschal Marius huffed as he raced up the hill, noble garments in tow, "How, on this green land, did you convince me that I should carry your things. I am no manservant. I am a respectable person, one who has worked diligently to be in the position of near-noble-hood, and I'll have you know that if I were one tier above what I am now, I _would_ be a noble and you would not be able to–"

"Marius!" Victor waved over from his horse, clearly not paying attention. The usual. Marius growled but jerked his horse's reins toward the lord and stomped his feet angrily as he reached his designated spot.

"Yes, my lord? What do you wish of me? Should I polish your shoes on this fine, grassy hill? Perhaps carry more of your things for the party we are to attend? No, wait, I've got it! You want me to carry you personally the rest of the way there!" Seneschal Marius raised his voice and plopped Victor's garments on top of his horse. He should have been riding it instead of using the steed as a pack-mule.

Victor shook his head solemnly, "Of course not, Marius. You are a treasured friend of this family, and I would never disrespect you like that."

Marius paused and double took, "Oh…well that is most thoughtful of–"

"Your arms are not strong enough to carry a sword, much less myself. If I wanted a shoe polisher, I'd have brought my manservant with me. As it is, I've got you, and I thought you, of all the people I know, would not buckle under pressure. Are you going to prove me wrong?" Victor raised an eyebrow.

Marius gritted his teeth, "No, my lord."

"Good," Victor smiled and pointed to a figure in the distance, "Do you see what that is?"

Marius, without truly looking, said, "A castle, my lord. It's a castle." He then jerked his head up in surprise and gasped, "A castle! _The_ castle! Oh, I must make preparations! Goodness, where is the rest of the caravan?"

"I expect they are back a few paces. Remember? I left early some nights ago in a fit of rage after my father lectured me again on proper etiquette when we arrive. All I wish to see is my Lady," he dreamily slouched in the saddle, "I've only heard of such beauty in tales. Of people so kind, so selfish, that they cannot truly be real."

Marius rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers to focus the young man, "Fantasizing about your prospective bride is not going to get us any closer to the castle. On we go," he gruffly stated as he yanked on his horse's reins and trudged forward, "The Regent of Bohemia will have my hide for this. Thank goodness I saw you sneak out. If you were by yourself, and managed to slip away from my sight, I would find myself without a home, let alone a small title, right about now."

"You know, she looked comparable to an angel," the lord clucked his steed forward as well, changing the subject, "I knew she was special the moment I saw her portrait. I must have looked at that painting hundreds of times, just aching to find out what her voice sounded like," he paused to think for a moment, and in the process wiped his caramel-colored hair away from the rim of his helmet, "Come to think of it, she does not even need to talk to prove herself worthy of any man's attention; just her presence would suffice."

"Oh?" Marius chuckled bitterly and reached for his canteen of water, "So you are an expert on women, are you?"

Victor chuckled too, "Well, I would try to be humble and say not _all_ women…perhaps just the high-society ones I did get to know at my father's assemblies and, consequently, the parties thereafter…"

Marius choked on the water, "Oh, the horrid image! Get it out!"

Victor laughed rowdily, "They called me Victor The Handsome for a reason, you know," he glanced back to see Marius's face twisted in a knot of unpleasant disgust, "I apologize; father really was right. I must curb my language."

Marius shook his head, "No, not just your language, sire. The only way to hold your tongue is to cut it out of your mouth. Though, from what little I've heard, she has a smart mouth just like you. Perhaps it was meant to be."

"I can only hope," Victor said as they continued onward, but he paused, suddenly feeling strange, "Marius, you go on ahead…I…I'm going to head back and make sure that the caravan of our people are not lost."

"Oh-ho! Doth your Conscience and Reason finally control that devious mind of yours? Hath it inevitably snatched the reins from Irascible Rage and Concupiscible Passion?" Marius laughed.

Victor pulled back harshly on his horse and turned back around, "We're half a day ahead of them, yet we haven't seen their presence for two morns. Something...is amiss. And quit speaking in the old tongue; you know I despise it."

"Had you studied and remembered what I taught you, you would have understood that reference. I swear, the Hunyadi's are allowing a goon into their castle. And suddenly, your bride-to-be can wait?" Marius's voice turned to curiosity, though it still contained an air of bile-bitter sarcasm.

Victor let out a frustrated sigh and rode off without answering.

* * *

><p>Integra gasped in pain as Ana pinned another flower to her hair. Jusztina started to argue with Ana on which necklace and bracelets would look the best, and that gave a welcome respite for Integra to see what she looked like.<p>

Glancing at herself in the mirror, she only saw a child looking back at her; those little blue eyes, that little pout, those rosy, chubby cheeks that formed into a grimace as she was fussed over, and the mop of blonde curls that forever formed into a rat's nest with its tangles. The child looked back at Integra in anger. The young bride-to-be could hardly blame her younger self for being mad. After all, that small child was fading within her. Soon, all that would be left of this transformation would be the husk of a young woman –doomed to follow her gender's tradition. Ana returned to Integra with a handful of pins and began sticking them into her hair once more. Jusztina was busy deciding between pearls and a simple gold chain with amber tear drops along the sides.

"Would you quit squirming, my lady?" Ana hissed as she closed one eye in concentration, aware of Loredana hovering over every little detail.

"I would, were it not for your incessant pestering that I should look like a bouquet of flowers! I look perfectly fine in a simple dress with my hair down," Integra grumbled.

"Nonsense! Your intended man is arriving today! You must look the paragon of perfection!" Ana blew her auburn bangs from her eyes and jabbed another pin in.

"You look lovely; just beautiful," Jusztina said as she ruffled the tiers of Integra's blue dress outward and into a flare.

Seras stood still for Jusztina as the woman placed the necklace of pearls on her. The younger lady fluffed her curls and puckered her lips. She was wearing a simpler dress, one that Integra would have wanted to wear desperately instead.

"Let us not forget the other stunning girl in here," Jusztina licked her finger and rubbed a wisp of hair out of Seras's face.

"The day will test all of us, which is why we must all play our part, and play it to perfection," Loredana reminded them all for the thousandth time.

Anderson inputted an approving grunt as he opened the door, "Ladies," he looked at Ana, Loredana, and Jusztina, "Would you give us a moment?"

The ladies-in-waiting curtsied, took to their exits, and closed the door firmly shut on their way out. Seras bit at her lip and moved away from the royal advisor. He walked straight into the middle of the room with a pensive look on his face. Integra was not sure whether he would address her first, or Seras. Anderson settled on looking out of the window and down at the trailing line of caravans now pouring into the castle grounds to check in. The castle itself was not large enough for the sporting events that would occur in the ensuing days, so the tracts of land outside and near the small village next to it was open for the many families that would be staying here.

He swallowed and turned around to face two other expectant faces bracing for a yelling match.

"I will not yell at you, for I know t'would only make both of your sets of ears grow deaf to what I say in an instant," he began, "What I will say is this: The both of you are Hungarian nobles, and you are required to act as such. The whole kingdom has decided to show up in the name of your father's honor. They respect him and his relentless progress in thwarting the Ottoman advance. Even political enemies have come under one banner this week to honor your father, and if you mar his name for your own selfish gains, you will prove to be the suspicious little tarts I think you truly are," Anderson narrowed his eyes at Integra.

She sighed, "I knew it would come to this. Anderson, if you think you can scare me into believing that I would destroy my own father's carefully laid out celebration and his reputation therein, you thought wrong. My eyes are solely on pleasing him and meeting my future husband," she stated the last word a little awkwardly, but strongly.

"That's not what I was informed of, what with you fraternizing with the enemy on the target range a week ago," he snorted as his eyes narrowed, looking at Integra like a common street whore.

"How dare you– …I will–…What on earth makes you–… He–" Integra shook with anger so much she could feel the individual teardrop beads of the amber clack against one another.

"This is not a game, Integra. You must stay within your limits, you must open your mouth when spoken to, and you must never stop smiling. I taught you all of this in your etiquette lessons, though you never deigned to listen. Your skills will be put to the test, and I can only pray so much that you will have started to remember what I taught you," Anderson felt his shoulders lock.

"Then I'd suggest that you cease your provocation. After all, it is not just my father's reputation on the line," Integra took a few breaths to breathe and grinned, "It is yours as well, my teacher."

Anderson's eyes widened, "You would dare to cause a scene and take me down with you? You manipulative hussy!" He raised his hand to slap her.

But a fast hand caught Anderson's. The advisor whirled around to face a manservant's stern face. Walter gripped his hand and threw it back to Anderson's side. The two men turned to one another and stood there, unflinching, burning each other with their glares. Anderson, slightly taller, seemed to raise himself even higher to tower over Walter.

"Lord Anderson, I'll have you remember that The Regent comes to me for the latest news on his daughters. I challenge you to a small mental exercise: what would happen to you if I informed him that you laid a hand on his most precious jewel of the day?" Walter asked calmly.

Anderson blinked as he thought of being thrown into the dungeon, but then he stared right back into the man's glare, "You may think that you can protect them forever, but one day they will be thrown out there," he pointed to the window, "And real men will tame them both."

"When that day arrives, I shall _still_ be here to watch over them," Walter straightened his posture and leveled with Anderson's height.

"Mhmm, _of course you will be_," the advisor scoffed and lingered for a moment to let the threat settle in, then unwillingly broke his glare from Walter to leave the room. Anderson had no trouble in slamming the door shut as he stomped out.

Integra smiled at Walter; he returned her expression and walked carefully over to her. Alarm flashed across her face as she noticed him limping.

"Walter?" she asked in confusion as she stared at his leg.

He understood the origin of her question and nodded, "Ah, that. Yes, an old battle wound. I fear it is biting at me again. It is nothing that a nice, warm wash cloth could not cure."

"Walter, if you're not feeling well–" Seras began.

"Nonsense, I feel fine," he reassured, "Now go out there and have fun. Really, have fun."

Seras walked up to him and gave him a hug. Caught off guard, he kept his arms open for a moment before hugging her back. Seras held him tightly to herself, even though her dress was beginning to choke her.

Walter nodded her to the door, "Away with you. Get thee gone, before this sickly sweet moment saddens me."

Seras curtsied and left the room.

Integra, after a moment of considering if she should embrace him too, decided to curtsy, bow her head, and began to walk out of the room.

_And three, two, one_, Integra thought as she made the final steps to the door.

"My lady," Walter murmured, "Do take care of yourself. Do not forget what we talked about."

"I shan't," she stated emotionlessly, "But 'talking' proposes that two or more people discuss something. And you, servant, did _all_ of the talking. I barely managed to add a word in."

Walking to the window, Walter nodded, "And I hope you forgive me for it. That was not one of my finer moments, my lady. I had never seen something so irrational happen to you, something so illogical. I saw you and…" Walter cleared his throat instead of saying Vlad's name, "Laying on one another like two lovebirds rolling in the hay. I…you looked like a mistress, not a noblewoman. I saw it within me to correct a wrong," he paused to look at her, "If I was wrong in my assessment of what unfolded, please correct me."

Integra, with no reason to explode into a fit of rage at his calm words, felt the affront to her honor crumble into a pile of dust, "I! I! …you're right," she rubbed her temples, "Every time he is in my company, I find myself losing that which I hold dearest to me: Reason and Logic. But he throws it all to the wind, as if we're somehow in the heat of the moment, and he cannot sate his desires until they are completely filled and overflowing! But I have to cap the well before I drown, do I not? Before I…before I suffocate. He's indeed too much."

Walter's sympathy was evident on his face, "Integra, you have always managed the forceful men around you. It is in your nature to beat them down in your pursuit to demonstrate that a young lady can outwit them -and might I add that you do it with such grace under pressure," he smiled, "But what vexes you so about Vlad? Why are you hung on him?"

Integra glanced away in prideful shame for a moment, "Perhaps none of the previous men ever showed more than a passing affection towards myself. With Vlad, it is _far_ more complicated. He…I can tell what he wants. It's clear for me to see, like the lines on his face and the inescapable grin on his lips. If his expression does not give away what he wants, then his words surely do. They are honey, like mine, and I've never met a man who could match my wit like he can. Even when I _can_ see right in front of me what he really does want, there are always ulterior motives clicking in his mind, there are always three other ideas, or plans he has. I sense their presence, yet he does not allow me entrance into his mind to see what they are."

"But by the same token, he is irrational as well, as you experienced firsthand. He hides well behind a visage of rationality. In truth, he is anything but," Walter countered.

"Yes, and that is why I cannot place my finger on him and dissect him. He is different…sometimes beyond my level of comprehension."

Walter's eyes widened at her soft confession and exhaled, "He is worse than I thought, fooling even you," he made his limping way across the room to Integra and reached for her hands, "This is why you must meet Victor. He will be better for you, keep you stable, and keep you calm. All of this anxiety…it's unnerving and unnecessary. He feeds off of your imbalance -revels in it. You must resist him, and you _must_ move on. If you cannot find a way, I fear no one will."

Integra's posture straightened slightly, receptive to the challenge, "Hmm, a battle of the minds, then. This should prove engaging," she grinned and chuckled.

Walter bowed and showed her to the door, "I expect the dinner to be nothing less than delicious, since I helped prepare it earlier. Now go, and make _me_ proud, not Lord Anderson. Do it for your kingdom."

Integra agreed, "I shall. For you, Walter. My steadfast servant. My even keel. The rock to my conscience. This performance..." she raised her hands to introduce herself as if she were on stage, "...I dedicate to the only man in my life I could ever unconditionally trust," Integra said before curtsying in front of a grinning Walter and closing the door.

* * *

><p>Vlad grunted as he finally began to fall off of Hadúr. Shaking his head angrily until it hurt, he whispered to himself that he had no time to stop and rest. After riding for a good couple of hours, he knew Ladislaus would not make it in time, and sadly, neither would he. Now, it had been a day -a day of riding most hours at a hellacious gallop, racing back to the castle like a bat out of hell.<p>

"I…won't…make it…too l-late", Vlad whispered as he caught a glimpse of the castle. His safe haven -too far away, but just close enough to fall within reaching distance. Oh, the sick joke that God was playing at.

After the initial rush of adrenaline ebbed away, Vlad noticed that he was hit as well. Fortunately, it was in the leg, so he did not immediately sense the poison take over his body. After a few hours though, he began to feel immensely tired, as if time was slowing down and that every step he took closer to the castle was more like an eternity. He soon lost some sensation in the leg, and before long his entire side went numb. Cursing his bad fortune, he paused for a moment and dismounted, laying Ladislaus down on the grass with the last of his strength.

"Damnation, this leg. It's senseless," Vlad shook the prince, "Ladislaus. You must refrain from falling asleep, lest you never wake…Ladislaus!"

The prince roused and his eyes fluttered open, "Oh…" he said softly, "Vladimir, I cannot feel my body. I am completely limp."

"The poison," Vlad bandaged his leg tightly from allowing it to spread quickly and cut off more circulation than it already had, "It's Hemlock; I recognize it. It spreads inward, numbing the patient until the heart is paralyzed and you die."

Ladislaus's breathing became labored, "W-what? You mean you used it on people?"

Vlad snorted, "I read in Edirne. I read of the symptoms in Ibn Wahshiyya's Book of Poisons. He was a ninth century historian who was one of the first to decipher ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs and-" Vlad groaned in pain, "Ack, never you mind."

"You are…very well read and educated…" Ladislaus regarded the man in a new light.

"Contrary to popular belief," Vlad eased his back on an old and rotted tree trunk, "The Ottoman Empire is a beacon of affluence and education. We've housed some of the most profound mathematicians and historians this world has ever seen. Christianity, through brute force and sheer numbers, has prevailed, much to the Empire's dismay. They see Christianity as tribalistic in nature compared to the high society living and cultured environment I grew up in," he chuckled, "They see you as barbaric in nature, but merely a thorn in their side, and they intend to pluck it out."

"Barbaric? It is one thing to- Ow!" Ladislaus cringed and heaved a great sigh, "Is…there…anything…you can…" his eyes fluttered once more and closed.

Vlad turned to the man swiftly and shouted his name. What he got was no response.

After another few tense moments of pain and confusion, Vlad let go of the prince's shoulders and leaned back on the tree trunk, exhausted and fatigued beyond measure. He closed his eyes shut and managed to whisper a prayer, covering the young man with a blanket from Vlad's saddle. The Wallachian's expression turned mournful and angered as he tried to stand up. To no avail, no matter how hard he tried, his right leg would not respond.

Vlad's thoughts wandered to a place he was shocked to be in: Integra and Seras; he pictured them right in front of Hadúr, glowering. He began to wonder if they knew he had snuck out of the castle, coward that he was, and had left with Ladislaus in the early morn to quell the supposed 'uprising'. Vlad began to question if Integra truly liked him at all, or if he was simply another babbling idiot that displayed carnal affection and nothing more. If she was any manner of woman, she would reject him; he knew that much.

Within a couple of minutes, Ladislaus sporadically gasped for air, startling Vlad, but he looked on triumphantly. The prince's falling in and out of consciousness was usual, as it had been happening for the past two hours. And though the prayer, for some reason, slightly stung as Vlad whispered it, it had clearly worked.

Ladislaus regarded his intrigued expression, "You looked…almost shocked…"

"Well, considering that most men pass within an hour of exposure to the poison…yes, 'almost shocked' sums up my sentiments exactly. You should, by all rights, be dead."

The prince paled as he quickly ran his hands over himself to ensure that this was not a dream, "Oh…dear…I do feel like I'm slowly slipping. Like the ocean, something is hooking me down into a great…" he paused.

"Great what?"

Ladislaus relaxed his shoulders and closed his eyes, "Abyss."

Vlad instantly remembered the similar feeling when he exchanged pleasantries with The Regent's wife. In fact, Ladislaus had uttered exactly what he had felt when in her presence. Her holiness and pious cleanliness seemed to almost sicken him where he stood.

Deciding to change the subject, he stated, "The arrow's poison was mostly wiped off before contact due to your strong armor and thick clothing underneath that. I also wrenched it out of you within seconds," Vlad surmised, "I, however, might be more fortunate…I think," he heaved the injured leg over to his hands.

"Then why have you neglected…in removing the arrow?" Ladislaus asked weakly as he noticed the long intrusive weapon protruding from raw tissue.

"Mmm, I suppose I had not wanted to move it until now," Vlad increased pressure on the injured part, a muscle pierced deep within the flesh, "I ceased feeling any pain after a while, and I was so focused on retreating away from the village that I did not want to stop to take it out. But the shot was a through-and-through, you see?" he showed how the arrow pierced all the way through his calf and that the metal shaft was only touching the tissue. With one wincing pull, the arrow was tugged all the way through and tossed out to the ground.

Ladislaus chuckled, "I never…never…said 'thank you'."

"There was no need to, least of all now. It was intrinsic. It was my duty to protect your life, should it be threatened and, if need be, save it, should it be harmed. But I have failed you…" Vlad patted him on the shoulder, "I have failed you and the Kingdom of Hungary. I suspect that they even know now that I left with you, which was strictly against my orders to remain there."

Ladislaus coughed up bile but grinned, "You think I'm some idiot who is deaf and blind to all around him? I rightly knew that my father wanted you to stay and help with party plans, and I rightly knew you would come to me in the hopes of running as far away from that as possible. You may be a complex man, Vladimir, but your actions are very predictable."

Vlad laughed and laughed at that, "Oh my, are you warming up to me since you allowed my presence on this trip?"

"Ha! Perhaps…But refrain from pressing your luck," the prince coughed once more and attempted to roll over, "…I…I'm slipping again, Vladimir…the abyss…it's coming for me…it's…"

The Wallachian turned to him, "It's what?"

But the prince's breathing grew so shallow, Vlad could barely hear it.

"...It's what!" he demanded and turned to Ladislaus's motionless body.

But this time there was no response.

"D-Damn. We-we're out o-of time," Vlad felt his own fatigue swallow him as he reached up one last time to Hadúr's reins, hoping that the horse somehow knew to help him.

* * *

><p>I just wanna give Ladislaus and Vlad hugs and tell him everything will be okay…pat them on the head…sing them Soft Kitty…Bah, enough with my sentiments. On with responses to reviews! Figure I'll do this a couple times every now and then. I get more and more encouraged by you guys.<p>

The first scene for the next chapter should prove interesting.

To **Mary Queen of Scots**: Ah, such a nice, long review. And thank you for loving it! Compliments and constructive criticism in reviews are what keep this fic afloat! To clarify, we actually do know Vlad's first wife's name. I have corroborated it with a friend who actually got a tour of Bran Castle in Romania. (jealous of him) Anyway, Ilona exists in my world, and is actually Integra's cousin. There was a reference to her in Chapter 1, if you remember. I can tell you that there is a fic out there where Integra does play the role of Ilona, (and **hellsingfan101**, I hope I have your permission to write this) and it's called The Price of Playing Ilona. You should check it out.

To **hellsingfan101**: That's the hope :) and I can only pray that I do it as well as you did. Ugh, and I've been so busy I haven't checked out your last chapter to Price of Playing Ilona. I will review it, promptly!

To **Shinkicker**: That's the hope :) His fall is inevitable, sadly. Yeah, there were tales of high assassins who would go on missions as part of their tradition. I'm not sure if it's completely true, but I found it hilaaaaarious.

To **Hemamal**: Ha! Douche bag arrow. I'm not sure if you realize how much I laughed at that. I spat out my drink. Congrats.

To **Soul93**: Hmm, 10,000 words would be…labor-some. Don't get me wrong, this story is a labor of love, but I would be enslaved by my writing and it would no longer be something that I do on the side for fun. I'm flattered by the compliment, though. So thank you. I hope Victor does not sound as cray cray to you anymore. He's not meant to be unstable, just a well-rounded individual who is rebelling against 'father's wishes'. I've decided that any young man character I bring in will not have a dark and mysterious past that will cause him to be a _hard-boiled veteran, misogynistic and pseudo-sarcastic, acid-black humor, kill-first-ask-questions-later, hot-tempered, semi-ass-hat, ingenious strategist._ That role is already taken with the leading man :D

To **TheAvenger07**: Ahh, the great and luscious terrain of language that is writing a battle scene. I love to write them as well, but one must never write them to avoid character development -the scenes that one has been procrastinating to write or does not want to write because the characters will face something awkward, or heated, or life-changing, so he gets nervous and writes a battle scene to avoid it. My brother talked to me about writing epic battles when the scenes necessitate or compel it, but to otherwise use them strategically. It's a delicate balance between dialogue and action, and, to be honest, I tend to lean toward action more than dialogue, though it may not look that way in _this_ story. Wow, tangent. I'm so sorry.  
>-So I take it you like The Avengers? That is a sign of sexiness and good taste. Carry on :3<p>

To **Garnet:** Yeahhh, I realized that I was starting to do my habit once again: do a day-by-day writing style, which, if you're trying to cover all of someone's lifespan (Vlad), is not the right way to do it. So I had to speed things along. Also, I only got I think it was 3 reviews on the Integra/Vlad chapter with the duel, so I wasn't sure if you guys liked it as much. This past chapter had more reviews than the duel one. *shrugs* Oh, and you'd better bring a magazine while you're waiting for the Integra/Vlad bits again :O

To **zenbon zakura** : Calmate, por favor. I won't allow any of my readers to have a heart attack on my watch. And when did arrows start burning people? :/ It was poison, not acid :P And I think you meant axillary artery. To clarify, it pierced through his ribcage; the axillary artery is too close to his arm. The wound is lower than that.  
>… Am I to understand that you liiiike László? That you hope he does not die?<br>He's one of my favs too. 8-)


	18. A Fortuitous Rescue and Fraught Politics

**A/N:** Mmmm, juicy politics…and actually that scene goes by a little fast, but it's supposed to be chaotic with all the nobles there.

Thank you for sitting patiently in the corner; you can now come over here and read what I've written.

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

A Fortuitous Rescue and Fraught Politics

Victor and his horse rounded another corner, past the green brush and lofty trees to an open field. His eyes freely scanned the vast terrain as far as they could see. The tall grass had been pulled back and raked across, crushed from many caravans trekking the same path to the celebration, but he did not see his own people. Victor nervously fidgeted with his reins as he waited for a sign, for anything, to indicate life. What he discovered astonished him.

"Why would they be lost? They would not be. My father sent his finest men with the most detailed maps. How is it, then, that I do not see them? Could they have been attacked?" Victor shook his head, "Drive these negative thoughts away, fool."

The young man led his steed along the tree line before the field started when his horse snorted and whinnied frantically. Victor steadied the stallion and hushed him.

"What ails you, friend?" he asked, only to be answered with a knicker.

Victor scanned the land once more, following his horse's gaze to another stallion in the distance. If it weren't for the saddle atop it's back, Victor would have thought it wild. It was a massive black draft horse, and it answered with a whinny and began trotting over.

"A stray? What happened here?"

The black horse stopped right in front of both of them and paused to nudge and sniff Victor's ride. As they were getting acquainted, he noticed the blood on the saddle and along the shoulder of the animal. Its dried up texture trailed lazily down the fur of the black horse's shoulder, to its knee, and then to a final dark red streak that painted the horse's hoof as the line made destination with the ground. Victor couldn't believe his eyes when he saw yet another patch of blood along the horse's hindquarters. And that one was fresh, dripping softly off of the animal's hips and into the grass. Either one person was bleeding in two different places...or there were two people injured.

"What, ho? Blood? From whom? Someone is injured," Victor redirected his horse to canter where the black horse came from. It naturally followed, anxiously prancing.

Upon arriving, Victor received his answer. Two men, one definitely more alive than the other, were curled up on the grass. The nobleman dismounted immediately to inspect the injured party. Rolling the one with black hair over, he saw the brand of armor and cape, the tassels and his sword, as the make of a Hungarian blacksmith and tailor. He deduced that the other, more pale one with a blanket wrapped around him was also Hungarian. The saddle-pad of the black horse was knitted with the Hungarian's coat-of-arms colors as well. Victor knelt next to the one with blonde hair and felt his cheek. Ice cold.

A hand suddenly snatched his gauntlets and yanked them away.

"Y-you must take us to the castle. The Regent is in mortal peril. Th-there is an-" the man with black hair and changing hazel eyes looked at Victor with instant suspicion.

"You will not fare well with prudent information refrained from seeing the light of day. Out with it," Victor demanded, "I am in search of my caravan. They may have died yet, and I have to find them. If you have any information, you must tell me now."

The man was attacked with a bout of coughs but managed to form a fragment of an answer, "An Assassin…"

Victor shook the man wildly, "What? Continue! An Assassin where? At the castle? That is where he is located? To kill The Regent? What fresh hell _is_ this?"

"I am Sir Vlad III Dracula. Y-you may have heard of me, and my allegiance to the Hunyadis, a-a-and I am swearing by my word, honor, and t-title, that Lord Ladislaus and I are the remaining r-remnants of what once was a strong body of cavalrymen. We w-w-were a-ambushed by the famous Assassins, though we can only s-speculate why."

Victor slung the man's arm over his shoulder and lifted him up, "I can make that leap in one baby step. It is because of The Regent's celebration. Sir, do you have any proof that there is an infiltrator within the castle? If there is a scene made, or suspicion, I fear chaos will erupt. Our enemies will have won without using anything against us but fear."

Vlad winced as he balanced himself on one foot, "I admit, it is only a whim, but Ladislaus died trying to deliver that message. They managed to poison both of us. He was less fortunate in his fight against it. He did, however, retrieve this small ripped piece of cloth from a dead villager's hands. It has their symbol on it," Vlad kept it close to his side but did allow Victor to inspect it from a distance.

Victor glanced back at the paled, motionless man, "You said Ladislaus? Ladislaus Hunyadi?"

Vlad chuckled as he watched Victor examine the body of Ladislaus, "He called himself a prince, once, though he was only a nobleman. He felt he owned the right to the title, and his father 'king', what with the fatal politics of this kingdom as of late."

"May your King Wladislaus rest in peace, and may his heir apparent, Ladislaus V, find his way amid the turmoil," Victor turned the man over and pressed his ear to Ladislaus's chest; he closed his eyes to listen.

"Oh," the Wallachian crossed his arms in a slightly defensive posture, "He was not my king, nor will the little whelp Ladislaus V be the heir apparent to the Kingdom of Hungary. Not to me, at least. I answer only to János Hunyadi, and for a time this one as well," he nodded to his passed friend.

"What?" Victor whispered.

"I said-" Vlad repeated frustratingly, "That I only-"

"No, not you," Victor shushed the man and listened again, "This man…his heart still beats."

Vlad blinked twice and frowned, already pushing off of Hadúr for momentum and hobbling his way over, "What? Dare you jest and I will massage your innards with my sword."

"I am serious. Behold the sight," Victor helped Vlad kneel back down and pressed his head to Ladislaus's chest.

"I-it's still beating, and his breathing shallow but still there," Vlad nearly sat back and locked eyes with Victor, "We have to get him to the castle where he can be treated!"

"Hurry up," Victor motioned for Vlad to swing his arm over once more to be lifted when Vlad pulled out a hidden dagger from his boot so swiftly that the metal rang for a moment. He slowly placed a finger over his lips.

"Shh, there is something out there…it is nearing," Vlad whispered as he crawled effectively closer to the tree line and pushed his back up against a tree trunk. The sounds of heavy footfalls became louder, until Victor caught sight of the person.

"So there I was, halfway down the drawbridge when I realized that I needed to have a certain nobleman check in with me! One Seneschal claiming to have a whole caravan, and naught behind him but his only horse? Ha! The guards would kick me out, roaring in laughter as they went! Fortunately, my Lord, I found your caravan of people on my way to find you again. They took a different route, but nevertheless did not get lost, much to my utter joy. No, no, there is no need to thank me. I only did my job and _yours_," Seneschal Marius huffed as he rounded the corner, rotund belly heaving up and down for air.

"Mariu-" Victor barely let out before Vlad swiped the Seneschal's legs out from underneath him, causing the whale to smack into the ground and create a miniature earthquake that startled even the horses.

Vlad rolled as best he could onto the man and slipped the curved dagger into the folds of Seneschal Marius's fat neck with a growl. He pushed gently onto it and heard the helpless babe whimper in fear, "Identify yourself, you piece of lard!"

"_Please, don't hurt me!_ Don't kill the messenger!"

"Messenger? Messenger!" Vlad's eyes darkened, "I've had bad luck with messengers as of late," he glanced at Ladislaus.

"My Lord, help! I was sent to tell you that your father requests your presence immediately!"

Victor placed his hand on Vlad's shoulder calmly, "This is Seneschal Marius -steward and officer in the noble House of Poděbrady. He is accompanying me along on this trip. Marius is of no concern to you, and he would not hurt a fly."

Vlad continued to stare threateningly at the man but complied to release his grip, "The House of Poděbrady? Is your father George of Kunštát and Poděbrady?" he allowed Victor to throw his arm over for support and lifted Vlad back into a standing position.

"Yes," Victor sounded slightly surprised, "I suppose I have failed in introducing myself in the face of all this confusion. I apologize. I am-"

"Victor, _I know_," Vlad declined to add his title to the name and roughly let go of the steward.

Detecting a sudden cool chill of hostility on Vlad's part, Victor walked over to Seneschal Marius and helped the capsized turtle over, "My good man, I must ask of you one more boon. This man here," Victor motioned to Ladislaus, "Is the noble son Lord Ladislaus of the House of Hunyadi. He needs medical attention, and I believe the only horse he and all his materials will fit on is yours."

Seneschal Marius nodded solemnly, "I remember this man. Fine youngin, that one. Here," he exposed his left hand out for Victor to take the reins, "I shall meet you there," he glanced at Vlad wearily, "As this man has made so obvious, I do need the exercise…"

Victor gently took the reins and gave him a rueful smile, "We'll be off then," he picked up Ladislaus and slung him over like a sack of potatoes onto Marius's mount. Tying the lead rope of Marius's horse to Victor's own saddle, he then hopped on his smaller horse and led the way to the castle, Ladislaus in tow.

Vlad clucked Hadúr forward and followed, silently brooding.

.•*´¨`*•.

"I said I did not want the pork!" Matthias whined and pushed his plate further across the table.

Seras smacked the fork out of his hand, "No eating until father arrives! It's rude!"

"But I'm DYING HERE!" Matthias pressed on and nibbled at the sides of his plate.

Seras groaned in frustration as she decided to take in the beautiful spectacle of people who were all gathered in the dining hall to celebrate the first night of the tourney. All manner of people had arrived -subjects, nobles, counts, barons, dukes and duchesses had with officers to accompany them and servants to accompany the officers as well.

She squirmed in her seat restlessly as she watched Integra rise to greet more guests entering. The ladies wore the most beautiful, bejeweled gowns to outwardly express their wealth, and the men wore their finest garments and pants slicked and steamed to perfection, sans wrinkles. It was a sight for all to behold to see so many people collected and gracious with one another, even if most did not have paralleled ideals.

Integra, in great pain from her dress and its damnable, unforgiving vice grip on her, managed to look effortless as she made her way to the nearest person. It was known to her that she needed to ingratiate herself as guests came and went from room to room to ogle the valuables and architecture of the castle in all its glory. She ignored Anderson's obvious glances to get her attention over to him.

"Ah, Lady Integra, such a lovely sight on the eyes!" Count Gavros chimed with his golden-gilded voice.

She turned slowly around and curtsied, "Such wonderful news that you could make it."

"And I am glad as well, though I do not see young Victor and his father here yet," his voice sounded like a tease.

"I'm sure complications arose," she frowned at how he began to look at her like a hound does to a raw steak.

"And if he took offense at something, Victor may no longer be present or welcome at this feast. Perhaps no longer welcome in the castle or in The Regent's wishes. What then? Who will give you what you need, who will sate your needs and wants? Perhaps someone with more wealth and experience, hmm?" Count Gavros refrained from licking his lips.

"If we have in some manner offended him, I'm quite sure we will resolve any matters he finds offending by means of professional and diplomatic methods," Integra bluntly stated, deciding to ignore the sub-textual level he was discussing, and quickly changed the subject.

"I see," he sounded more than insulted.

"I trust your room satisfies your needs?" she asked._Oh, drat. Poor choice of words._

"Indeed, it does," his lanky figure towered over hers as his thin hands intertwined in her right hand. He brought her hand up to his mouth and gently kissed, "Sleeping -or perhaps not- in those long hours of the night that one dreams, and space in which to put my things. But not all places are open in this large castle."

"Nay," Integra smiled, "Certain areas are off limits, even to guests like yourself."

Count Gavros eyed her dress over with a certain haughty arrogance, "Perhaps one day every room shall be open to myself and my…_possessions_."

"Until then, turn your captivating attentiveness to the servants for any problems you have with your room," Integra refrained from growling and curtsied her way out of the conversation.

Fortunately, another, more stout and stern man graced the room with his presence in a high fur coat and broadened shoulders from his armor underneath, so easily visible. He wore a self-threaded eye-patch that curled expertly around his bald head. Scanning the room, he instantly noticed Integra and walked over, "Ah! There you are! The jewel amidst the peril! How are you, my dear?"

"Ulrich, Baron of Eyczing," Integra bowed her head in recognition, "I'm elated you could join us in our celebration to honor my father's commitment to the Kingdom of Hungary."

"Yes," he skipped kissing her hand and grabbed her into a bear hug, "But was it not also his birthday?"

"Yes, but we mustn't turn a blind eye to all that he has accomplished, and with such little support," she added in a low tone as suddenly more people crowded over her. It instantly became overwhelming as they seemed to corner her with their enthusiasm, all beginning to talk at once.

Lady Illira joined the conversation, "My husband, Lord Benjámin, is ever grateful of your father's continuing fronts against the Ottoman Empire, and of his success." She motioned for even more to come and talk as well, noting the quite applauded and comely Lady Integra.

"And I have no one but The Regent to thank for the Ottomans' collective failure in stealing my stock, not to mention my lands," Johan, prospective Duke of Thuringia, added, "My family has long since known of his greatness, and I can only hope that I meet him personally before this is over," he twirled his moustache thoughtfully as he took another sip of his own mead.

"Very kind of you," Integra bowed her head, "Might I say he is so devoted to protecting the kingdom because he has such remarkable nobles standing behind him?" She glanced at an amused Ulrich, who had remembered just moments prior that she had confided in him such was, in fact, NOT the case.

All in her presence laughed and agreed jovially.

"I almost wish we could alleviate the swelling burden placed upon his shoulders by receiving Ladislaus V out of Frederick V's hands," Ulrich, Baron of Eyczing dared to state.

Integra was about to form an answer when another man stepped in, "The good Lord knows that you and I have been both trying, but we have not received the fruits of our attempts due to our never-ending failing streak."

"Ah, Ulrich II, Princely Count of Celje. I like your name," Ulrich of Eyczing chuckled and shook hands with him.

"How are you, my dear friend?" Ulrich II asked, genuinely concerned, "And our army of men -are they ready to save Ladislaus V?"

Hushed whispers fell across the circle of people.

"I beg pardon?" Integra braved through the act of social misconduct and brazenly asked, though her fellow gender-mates threw scornful glares her way.

Both men turned to her in a shocked manner, to which Integra took offense.

"What, you just blithely say this in open conversation and then expect no one to ask what you mean to do?" she defended her position.

Ulrich II's eyes softened, "No, my dear. I'll tell you exactly what we are inclined to do. Ladislaus V has been held in captivity by Frederick V ever since Ladislaus's father died. Frederick had previously lost every conflict on the battlefield against Albert VI, the Archduke of Austria, and thus resorted to more subtle means. This included turning against his own second cousin once removed, Ladislaus V, so as to internalize more power for himself. I'm not entirely sure -none of us are- of what his intentions are, or of how much longer he is willing to keep the boy alive. That is why we must, with all due haste, reach Ladislaus V and bring him back, for he is the rightful heir to the Kingdom of Hungary."

Integra stood for a moment to soak every delicately placed word and nodded, "You are right. This must be done. I shall speak with my father to obtain any men he can possibly spare to save this young boy. The crown must not fall into malicious hands."

Both Ulrich's agreed, "We intend for it not to be so."

Johan, prospective Duke of Thuringia jumped on the opportunity, "Would you also perhaps express discomfort on my part to your father that he has increased taxes on my brother, Mihály?"

"I believe that if your brother has some quarrel with how things are run here, he can take it directly to my husband," Integra's mother arrived, wearing a wondrously blue and purple soft dress with hooped sleeves slit down the middle.

"Mother," Integra curtsied as everyone in the room bowed and or curtsied in kind.

"Please, do not cease talking amongst one another. The Regent will be in shortly," Erzsébet pronounced his title with loving care. She then turned privately to Integra, "I see you find yourself content to speak politics to the men," she said with evident disapproval.

Integra rose her chin defiantly, "And if I do? What shall you do? Openly chastise me, dear mother? Oh, heavens, but that would be un-ladylike of you," she sassed.

"Err..." Ulrich II awkwardly began, "I think Ulrich of Eyczing and I will excuse ourselves to the…Club Tower, or the White Bastion." They both bowed graciously to both women and exited.

Erzsébet bowed her head kindly until they left, but then her face turned a bright shade of red as she tried to temper her rage, "Of course not, my dear. I would invite you to the cellar and then promptly lock you there for your ungrateful, ungracious, and unforgiving attitude until I saw fit to release you. Even now you've caused a scene, and you're starting to scare people away."

"I…I'm sorry. I'm just held together by a shoe string, it seems, no thanks to the now imminent arrival of my soon to be…" Integra couldn't finish the sentence.

For a moment, Integra actually believed her mother due to her more than acidic tone. Then she suddenly morphed her expression into a look of elated joy as she pulled Integra away from her circle for a moment.

"We are expecting George of Kunštát and Poděbrady and Lord Victor to enter at any moment, but I fear that the feast signifying the first day of the Turneul Cavalerilor must start soon." The governess nervously glanced at her audience of people, but deduced that they were, more or less, content for the moment.

Seras walked up to them with a smile curling her petite lips, "Pip will be guarding us tonight."

All of the great import of that sentence could easily be read in her expression as she turned to look at his familiar light leather armor and bow across the room. He had turned around at the same time and dared to wink at her in the governess's presence, quickly and bashfully turning around. But the scene was so cute it was almost sickly sweet, and Erzsébet decided to forget it happened.

Integra sighed and tried to smile back, already feeling the initial signs of fatigue after catching up on the politics of her kingdom. Sometimes, she hadn't the slightest idea as to how her father managed.

"Umm, mother?" Seras tore her stare away from Pip to the table at which she was sitting, "When will father be in? I think Matthias will soon go stark-raving mad from lack of food."

The two other women watched as the young boy began to gnaw on his cloth napkin, attempting to pick it apart as his teeth ripped into the fabric like a hound on its first kill -lots of mess, and lots of slobbering.

"Oh dear! Where are the ladies-in-waiting?" Erzsébet scurried over to him and grabbed both of his tiny arms.

Integra let out another exasperated sigh, "Can I not get this over and done with? Where is Victor?"

Just as she asked that, her father stepped into the room, ceremonial garments draped all around him, including his coat of arms and emblems dating back generations in his family. A magnificent and wide grin adorned his wrinkled face as he was instantly crowded over, shaking hands with this person, bowing to that person. All of his guests clapped and openly cheered for him. Erzsébet reached for her handkerchief as her eyes began to mist with pride. Seras joined the clapping, and after a few moments of trying to maintain her serious and professional composure, Integra's stern and aloof expression warmed into a chuckle as she joined her younger sister, forgetting entirely in that moment about Victor -her seemingly elusive, intended man.

.•*´¨`*•.

AHAHAHAHA! I fooled you ALL. You thought I was going to kill Ladislaus? Feh! His character is MUCH too important to the story and plot. Besides, he doesn't die until 1457. I had to give him a reason to stop going on his father's missions, which he inevitably did stop doing. And, as always, anything I write it subject to change to further perfect this story. No Integra/Vlad this chapter. I'm ready for my chastisement.

~Side question for reviewers & optional: (And first write your review of the chapter before answering, please. I'd hate to have this entire chapter's reviews just be replies to this question than telling me what your thoughts were about the writing). Okay, here it is. I've noticed that it takes me exceptionally longer to write a nine/ten page chapter than it does for me to write a five-pager. Now, this goes to you. Should I post five-pagers, thus enabling me to write *possibly* faster, or do you wish for the long nine/ten pagers that you have to wait for but are posted and delicious too? I've never considered writing shorter chapters, but I'm considering it now since it takes me longer to write the biggies~

The ball is in your court. Let me know what you think! Hope everyone had a nice fourth of July! I went to a wedding, and the only thing that hurt were the plane tickets and spending of money and drinks and presents and movie tickets and meals and hotel rooms and…*looks at credit and debit card on life support*…Oh, god…where was Admiral Ackbar to tell me "IT'S A TRAP!"

To Sylvan Moon: Welcome aboard! I appreciate your consistency of reviews. I'd thought you'd just write the one. I'm pleased that you like the story so much. Forgive me, but this will be a long response, as I'm catching up to your reviews. I do this once every couple of chapters. Or every other. Whichever.

To your chapter 15 review, I'm surprised you think that Walter and Alucard were actually friends, because not only does Walter reveal that he does not like the vampire in the manga, he shows it by playing a Benedict Arnold and turning over to the Nazis -all to defeat that which he hates most (Alucard). I'm trying to tap into that hatred he has for Vlad (Alucard) in this story. I would not want him to play a lie throughout my entire fanfic like he does in the manga, so I tell you upfront that he despises Vlad. However, he cares too much for Integra to act on his hatred (or so you're led to believe *evil grin*) especially now that he suspects that there might be something going on between the two.

As for your question in chapter 16… 'Mmmm' is my answer. Interpret that however you must. "Vlad" is short for Vladimir. Or sometimes even Vladislav. Or sometimes Vladislaus. I'm just assuming his full name is Vladimir. If it's not, then I mentally chide his parents for giving him a nickname instead of a full one. Think of it as saying "Nick" instead of Nicholas.

As for your daydream, I believe Shinkicker had a similar wonder -whether or not I would add something at the very end; like Alucard rousing from this entire story, realizing it was a dream and noticing that there were similar characters in his past life to the ones he lives with now, in the Hellsing Organization. It certainly sounds intriguing, and I have considered writing a little tidbit at the end, but we'll have to see if the plot needs it or not.

And your chapter 17 review, well, let's just say…I can tell you Vlad would brazenly let you know he was slipping into a murderous rage- I mean…experiencing slight discomfort.

Neither begging nor bribery will be necessary for me to continue this story. All you need to do is be patient with my sporadic updates. Lemons are wonderful, but I have to be strategic on where I place them, else this fic would transform into a sappy romance novella that would escalate its rating easily to "M".

Limes are posers. Lemons are fresh, electrically stingy, eye-wateringly, and lip-puckering-wonderful. Go big, or go home…Now I'm thinking of the meme "Why can't I hold all these lemons?"

.•*´¨`*•. I like this symbol-scene-changer .•*´¨`*•.


	19. A Rushed Entrance

**A/N:** Alrighty folks. Trying on a smaller chapter size due to suggestion, and because I'm curious to see if I can do it. And I apologize to **hellsingfan101** who asked what year it was. It is made clear in the upcoming chapter, but we're transitioning from 1452 to 1453.

I know I'm sluggish when it comes to years since the story starts in 1452, but I do what I want because ¡Vlad!

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

A Rushed Entrance

"APOTHECARY!" Victor shouted, "APOTHECARY!"

Vlad slunk off of Hadúr and fell to the muddy floor, not even bothering to catch himself with only one functioning leg. Every ounce of energy he had left poured out as burnt reservoirs of the last adrenaline he had. It was a short burst, a flame that was soon picked up by the wind and flickered to inexistence as it burnt up into the air with a short, puffed, and audible wheeze of breath.

Victor hopped off of his mount and rushed over to pick Ladislaus up from Seneschal Marius's horse, throwing the lord over his shoulder once more, "APOTHECARY! I NEED AN APOTHECARY NOW!"

A guard managed to race up to them on the drawbridge in the chaos and shouting of more people arriving, "Who be calling for an apothecary? What need have yeh for such a man?"

"This man is injured and unconscious, and he needs medical attention now, if he is to survive!" Victor grabbed the man by his collar gently but firmly, "I am Lord Victor of the House of Poděbrady. My father is George of Kunštát and Poděbrady, regent to Bohemia. This man," Victor pointed to the direction of Vlad, only to realize that he had collapsed, "This man is a court advisor to your own regent. He is also injured. If they are to live, you must direct me to the apothecary. NOW!"

The castle guard was released and pointed the frantic man in the right direction, "Please, my lord, enter this way. He is on the second story, tenth door to your left. We have been moving people and rooms to accommodate the nobility arriving, or else he would have been placed down here. If you cannot find him, come to me afterwards."

Victor was already struggling to hand the reins of each of the horse's to the guard, "Do not lose these animals. Place them in the stables and I shall personally pay you extra to keep them warm and fed," and he bent down to nudge Vlad. The guard nodded with raw enthusiasm at the offer of extra coin and made off with haste.

"W-what?" Vlad asked, delirious, "I'm afraid the poison has taken my entire right side. My arm is not responding either."

"Please, Sir Vlad, you must keep moving. You cannot fall asleep yet!" Victor grunted and almost was tipped over while holding Ladislaus as a rude noble trotted passed them on his steed, "Have you any respect; there are injured people about!" Victor roared at the man who waved them off as a response.

Vlad reached up to the closest stirrup he could grasp and pulled himself back onto his good foot with a loud and painful growl of determination. He steadied himself with Victor's free arm and began to hobble quickly to keep up.

The group passed the inner gatehouse and entered the frenzied inner ward where menservants of the castle and of individual nobles as well scuttled around with plates, dishes, glasses, potted plants, dry food, and even small furniture to redirected rooms. Victor found it extremely strenuous not to barge into someone and not to be hit by others. As far as the servants were concerned, they saw Victor as some man who was also probably a servant carrying a drunkard on his shoulder up the stairs to the second floor, while also balancing another man with an injured foot.

Victor whispered to Vlad, "Shouldn't we alert the guards of an Assassin in the castle? We must evacuate the area."

"No!" Vlad choked as he nearly tripped on the next step, "No, we mustn't attract any attention to the matter. We wish not to startle the Assassin. If he catches on our scent, the consequences could be drastic. We have to get Ladislaus to the apothecary first, or else The Regent's lineage could be done in."

"Don't you have another, younger child named Matthias?" Victor helped Vlad over the last step.

"Yes. We must make sure that he is safe too," Vlad coughed as he paused to lean on one of the stone walls of the hallway, "I need a moment."

Victor balanced Ladislaus on his shoulder and winced, "As long as you won't take more than a minute."

Vlad caught his breath and closed his eyes, "Let's think. Where would the Assassin want to strike?"

"We're assuming he's even here," Victor added with a dubious streak to his voice. "We really have no solid evidence that he even _is_ present, and if he is, he could be _anyone_."

Vlad made a disgruntled noise, "The messenger who tipped us off to Bagamér _was_ one! The man supposedly warned The Regent of an uprising and protest in that village, but when we arrived there, the bodies of the villagers had been long since dead. Then when Ladislaus and I inspected the place, not only did we find an infested, dead animal in the center well of the village that had been slowing poisoning the inhabitants with its rotted flesh, we also found that scrap of cloth with the lion of Ismail. No sooner had that happened when we were ambushed by the assassins who then killed all of our men. We are the sole survivors!" Vlad jabbed his swollen thumb at his chest, "So don't tell me that there is no one on this end manipulating what fallacious information gets through and what does not!"

"Alright, alright," Victor hushed the man, "Stow it. You don't want to get everyone's attention. Agreed. I believe you. Now where would the Assassin want to strike next. He is outnumbered by all of the guards, so he is hoping that he will slip by amid all the chaos, using that as his leverage."

"Or…" the Wallachian looked at the noble with impending dread, "…or he does not plan on returning home." Vlad took Victor's free arm once more as they began to walk again and count the doors, "He would want…he would want to strike the heart -just as the poison they inflicted upon us does the exact same," he felt his strained heart continue to beat, though it was slowing. Vlad ignored a sudden rush of panic and looked out at the setting sun, "My guess is that he will attack from inside. The Regent will have already entered the room to greet his guests. All it takes to tip him over is one swig of a 'guest's' seemingly harmless and specially brewed mead or spiced wine -one swig, and in minutes he will fall."

"Indeed," Victor counted door number five, "I must get to the Knight's Hall where they are all gathered and tell The Regent privately of what is happening. I promise I will be discreet, so as to not attract any attention," he read Vlad's troubled face and assured him.

Vlad counted door number eight, "No, Victor. My doubt is not embedded in the idea that you will not be discreet, it is that you cannot do this alone. I am joining you," Vlad tripped, not watching the stone floor in his fervent assertion as he fell to his knees with a thud, letting go of Victor's arm before he fell as well.

"Don't you see? You can barely walk. What if the Assassin sees us escorting The Regent out of the room? What then? We both may have to act quickly and _run_. You will slow things down, and you will be a liability to the performance of this mission."

Vlad seethed for a moment in his own stew of murderous rage, and if it weren't for his failing body he would have hit Victor over the head and ran to the hall himself. Such as it was, all he could manage to do to agree with Victor was slightly tilt his head into a strained nod.

"A-alright. _Fine_."

Victor smiled encouragingly as he passed door nine, "Fear not. This will be resolved."

Vlad tightened his grip on the other's arm hard enough that the noble looked back at him, "Victor…promise me that after The Regent is safe you'll return for his children. His lineage must be preserved."

Sensing care, concern, and even slight affection in the Wallachian's voice, Victor was tempted enough to ask his motives, "Anyone is particular I should grab first, Sir?"

Vlad hesitated, but his lips had already formed her name, "Lady Integra." The abrupt drop of her name confused him as he, for an instant, thought Victor had said it instead. Vlad should have instantly thought of Matthias, the heir if Ladislaus perished, yet his thoughts snapped to her instead -those golden-spun curls that she always tossed defiantly to the wind, the pair of sea-blue eyes that hardened to ice-encrusted glass shards as he continued to frustrate her, and that inescapable unison of a frown and grin adorning her face, while he felt her body tense and relax at the same time under his touch, that supple waist begging, nay, _yearning_ to be- "Stop it."

"Beg pardon?" Victor questioned.

"…Nothing…" Vlad grumbled and helped him open the tenth door.

A wave of dark musk filled with the smell of knowledge from old books smacked them in the face as a subtle tangy scent followed. The potions and poultices of the apothecary were all laid out on the top counter and along the side shelves of the dusty room. Particulate matter was visible through the cracks of the walls and window in what little rays of sunlight made it through. Both men sneezed, which caught the attention of someone in the back. Victor and Vlad heard the rustling of papers and footsteps nearing.

"Who comes?"

"Two men who are injured," Victor answered, keeping their identities hidden to temper any anxiety.

"I'm afraid this man might remember me. I've spoken to him on occasion," Vlad grated out as he clutched his chest in pain and hobbled in, "Show yourself."

A relatively clean man in what looked like monk's robes walked out of the shadows. He was round and balding strictly on the very top of his head. His face had long since wrinkled into small folds of skin that patterned his face like a road map. A tiny, insignificant wisp of a beard dotted his chin, but it was barely visible under his dark brown cowl. Small, inquiring, beady eyes looked over Vlad and the unconscious man on top of Victor's shoulder.

"Ah, Vlad. It's you," he stated with cloaked sentiment, then turned to Victor, "Name's Zargo, castle apothecary. I formulate and dispense materia medica to various people, including the few surgeons we have here, and give it to the patients that we collect."

"Is there a problem?" Vlad asked, sensing his passive aggressive behavior.

The old man ignored the question as he waved them inside and closed the door, "The servants are everywhere trying to sneak in and steal poultices and other ingredients. I apologize," he walked Victor to the back of the room, passed the myriad of book shelves, to a slab of rock that had been lifted up to form an operating table, "What have we here?" the man hummed as Victor placed Ladislaus on the slab gently and rested his head underneath a rumpled piece of cloth.

"H-hemlock," Vlad answered quickly.

The apothecary's eyes lighted up in interest, "Really? This man here?" he pointed to the blanket-covered Hungarian, "How long has his exposure been? I assume not more than a few minutes…"

"Two days," was Vlad's curt answer, "I was poisoned as well. My entire right side has numbed."

"How did- you there! Noble!" Zargo shouted to Victor, "Find me a book called Poisons and Medicine. Go!" the apothecary shooed him off and tended to Ladislaus with a cup of water, "We must keep him hydrated. How in the world could he have survived? Two days, you say? He must have an incredibly high tolerance for poison, drink like a fish, or be just plain lucky."

Victor rushed around the library for a minute until he realized that they were all alphabetized. Groaning in anger at himself and the wasted time, he trotted over to the 'P' section and traced his fingertips on each as he walked by. The old spines of each book smelled of leather, ink, and parchment. It reminded him of the vast library he often spent as a child in, but the shelves reached three times his grown self's size back home, and his servants would often have to use a stool to reach for a particular work. Focusing back to the present, his eyes caught the word 'poison' and his hands picked up the large weighted novel.

_Strange_, he thought as the pages opened easily to him, _it's been looked over many times-_

"Noble!"

Victor shut the book and returned to the back room. Vlad was explaining that he knew the symptoms of hemlock while the apothecary looked on, astonished.

"I cannot believe you actually read Ibn Wahshiyya's Book of Poisons, that you read a copy of it, that you actually held the pages in your hand and witnessed his genius unfold with each continuing chapter. You know he- Oh, here comes the noble, here to grace us with his presence. At his leisure, of course," the old and impatient healer scoffed, "I'm well past my prime, and _I_ could have walked quicker than you."

"Perhaps for the reason that you know this room better than I," Victor stated softly and held a retort in. He handed the book to the elder who then snatched it rudely out of his hands.

The apothecary thumbed a couple of pages in and turned a few more until he came upon what he wanted. Humming a tune, he looked at Ladislaus, then at Vlad, and started to nod, "Yes…yes, these are the symptoms. Paralysis. It paralyzes the organs and then finally reaches the heart and stops it," he buried his aquiline nose further into the text, "The problem is that there is no antidote."

"What ever do you mean?" Victor gawked in astonishment.

The book was shoved heavily in his direction by the Zargo. "Read."

Victor's impatient eyes scanned the page.

-Who-so hauyth y-dronke poyson other venym - Take dragance

other glandyne [Iris pseudacorus, yellow flag] and mynte, of

all y-lynche moch and stampe hym and tempere hym with wyn and

drynke hit.

For each manner venym and poysonn - Take the mylke of a goote

and sethe it with the seede of chaune [Cannabis sativa] to the third

dendell and drynke it thre dayes and vnder heuen is none betere

medecyne ne none se goodee.

For poysonn and venym also - Take the iuys of morell and

herhoune and drynke it with old vyne; so he shal caste oute

that venym and fro the poysunn be saued.-

"It also says that for henbane or hemlock, he recommends the bark of the mulberry tree, boiled in vinegar to induce vomiting, followed by milk," the apothecary stood up and rustled around his poultices, clanking and clattering the glasses, "The problem is that the best course of action in most cases of poison is to remove as much of the toxin from the body as quickly as possible. Having the victim vomit, then washing the stomach or treating with emetics or purgatives, while unpleasant for the patient, is often found to save his life. But it's been two days for you and your friend, and I'm afeard that time has run out. While certain medieval antidotes are supposed to counteract the poison of their own properties, the best remedies _purge_ the victim. Unfortunately, _nothing_ purges hemlock -nothing that we have discovered yet."

Victor faked illness and adeptly left the room, but only after making eye-contact with Vlad to exchange a knowing look of what their secret plan was. Vlad nodded to him and kept the apothecary distracted with questions.

"Oh, my word," Zargo covered his mouth as he lifted the blanket off of Ladislaus again, "This is…I didn't even recognize him…He is so pale…"

Vlad put an index finger over his mouth, "You will remain here and treat his wounds. There is no need to worry; Lord Victor is already retrieving The Regent to come in and see him," he lied. Partially.

Stirring a concoction of ground up bark from the mulberry tree, Zargo reached for an already boiling small pot over his fireplace and added a large cup of vinegar to it. The old man poured the chunks of bark into the pot and churned it like butter as the wood soaked up the liquid quickly.

"You don't fare well either, Vlad. But you already know this, don't you?" the reflected candle light danced brightly across his aged eyes.

Vlad smirked, "Trouble has a way of finding me. You could call it a…deadly attraction. However Her efforts in attempting to steal me away, I do not intend to die today."

The apothecary managed to smile weakly, "None ever do."

This made Vlad's confident expression wash away with a worried and troubled frown in its wake.

"Here," Zargo offered the first swig to him, "Drink it. It won't do much, if anything, seeing as how you are already exposed and it is in all four of your humors," he then jutted his chin at the open gash on Vlad's leg, "Seeing as how that is a wound from an arrow, it's already in your blood."

The Wallachian smiled and took a sip and instantly felt his stomach retch it back up his throat. Reaching for a bucket that was fortunately passed to him immediately, he puked into it.

"Ugh, it's vile," he wiped his mouth and grimaced.

The old man grinned, "More?"

"Please," Vlad reached for it and watched his conversation partner begin to clean his wound. After retching into the bucket again, he sighed happily, "I don't know what it is about this mixture, but my stomach seems to be working."

"I was hoping I'd see it come back up. If it didn't, I knew you'd be seeing Christ soon," Zargo's old voice cracked.

"How do you mean?"

"Organ failure. It is one of the symptoms of hemlock. Clearly you were not as severely poisoned as…" he looked over at Ladislaus, "I fear that boy will be catatonic for days. Except he's unconscious, but also completely unresponsive. I believe he is in a slight coma."

"You should not give him this concoction. His stomach might not be able to wake him enough to throw it up, and we do not wish for him to choke on it, should it become stuck in his throat," Vlad wiped his mouth again and watched the apothecary lift up Vlad's leg onto the small wooden table at which they were sitting.

"I was not planning to give this to him," Zargo set the half-empty bottle down, "...Who could have done this?" he asked rhetorically, but then his gaze wandered out to Vlad who made eye-contact but remained suspiciously silent, "I need to know," the elder insisted as he tightened Vlad's bandages and felt him wince slightly in pain.

But suddenly a loud explosion was heard and caused the walls to convulse and crack under the shock wave. Vlad and the apothecary were both pushed out of their seats and to the floor in an instant as the walls and doors continued to rattle with the window. Tubes and jars filled with poultices were knocked off of their designated shelves and shattered on the ground in an array of glass and liquid. Zargo shouted in pain as his old bones hit the ground with a thump. Vlad propped himself up by his working elbow but shielded his face in the event that anything more was to drop.

After a moment of silence and as the dust settled back onto the ground, Vlad grabbed the chair leg, then the top of the table, and hoisted himself back up.

"NO!" he argued to the ceiling, "I have to get in there!"

"Where?" the apothecary shouted as his shaky arms tried to hold his own weight up. Zargo hobbled over to Ladislaus and exhaled in relief that he was still laying down on the operating table.

"Where The Regent is! The Knight's Hall!" Vlad cringed as he fell back into his seat, entire side still numb. It was too late. Who was he kidding? The damage had been done, and Vlad already sensed there were casualties. He only hoped that it was not anyone he thought of in the first five seconds.

.•*´¨`*•.

Finito!

That was so exhilarating to write. Hot damn. Dat writer's cramp.

That was actually six pages and a bit of page seven, if I remember correctly.

Information Station:

-No, you don't need life support if you're in a slight coma.

-Yes, your autonomic systems are still functional, but you still need to be fed and clothed and changed daily (feel bad for that guy).

-Yes, I wrote 'coma' in a time where they did not quite understand it, but definitely had patients who had it. I merely provided them with its name for clarity.


	20. The Explosion

**A/N:** Lah-tee-dah, Lah-tee-dum, Lah-tee-dah, Lah-tee- OH GOD, ASSASSIN!

Wow, you guys react and review quick! 82 reviews. Oooo so close to 90 :3

Many of you are wondering how the assassins are going to be used in the plot. All shall be revealed in time. Just know that I throw stuff at you for a reason.

This chapter has many scene changes because many people are afoot! Hope you can cope. Keep tabs on where everyone is, won't you?

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

The Explosion

Walter wiped the rivulets of sweat from his brow as he moved from the simmering boar to the vegetable station. He was preparing the delectable small tomatoes and carrots. Rare fruits were placed on another tray in a lovely assortment that was aesthetically pleasing to the eyes. He looked on in pride as each of his works of edible art made it to the floor of the hall, and consequently the looks on each of the guest's faces as they were beginning to sit down for the meal that was to come.

"Walter."

He turned around to face a flustered maid, "Wey're runnin out o' sugar."

Walter took a moment to organize his thoughts, "Be less generous when sprinkling the sweets and use fruit juice instead. I doubt the nobility will mind."

She curtsied and scuttled back to her station of spices, sugar, and salts. Walter had just turned around to rotate the boar when another maid screamed in terror. He jerked back around to the commotion and rushed over. The spectacle forced a tired grin to curl up his lips.

"W-Walter! Do somethin'!" she screeched as a small child munched away at the hardened candy.

The little boy had made a small fort out of table cloths underneath her station and was snatching sweets while she was talking to Walter. He would deftly reach up and grab one, only to disappear within the folds of the fabric once more.

Walter crouched and lifted up the flap to expose the little tyrant, "Hello, my boy. How fares the candy? Good, I hope."

Matthias laughed maniacally and licked the remaining sugar from his mouth, "Deliciously appealing," his dark blonde curls bouncing as his head nodded.

Walter's eyebrows rose, "Impressive vocabulary, young man. I'm elated to know that you are paying attention in my lectures during which I tutor you."

Matthias stifled another laugh and put his hand on the manservant's shoulder for balance as he crawled out of hiding, "Walter," he grunted, "…don't make me go back out there. I wanna stay here with you and eat snacks. All they do out there is talk, talk, talk! There's no eating involved! My mom scolded me in front of them and and and they all laughed at me. She went to get the ladies-in-waiting to watch me. I don't wanna be treated like a child anymore! 'm not a baby!" tears grew into fat droplets as they streamed down Walter's coat.

Walter sighed, helping the child up by the hand. Looking over his disheveled appearance and tousled hair, and with dirt smudged all over his dinner clothes, there was no way that Walter could readmit Matthias back out into the fray without cleaning him to renewal. Of course, Walter would get to it eventually. Perhaps it would just…slip his mind for a few minutes.

"I'm of a mind not to allow starvation while I still tend to your family," Walter began and watched the boy grin, "Therefore, I shall place you over here on this stool, and tell you that you are not to move from this spot," Matthias's face fell as Walter picked him up and plopped him down on a rickety old stool, "However, I shall still be running errands, so my back is…conveniently turned away from you most of the time."

Matthias enthusiastically hugged Walter's waist, stool creaking, "Thank you! Thank you!"

Walter bent down and tweaked the boy's nose affectionately, "If you get caught by anyone else, I shall deny our little secret," he whispered.

"Understood," the boy saluted him and raced off before any backs were turned.

Walter shook his head, thinking he wasn't the most prudent-planning and secretive young one, but adorable, nonetheless. He pivoted around and faced a frowning crowd of servants- the only ones smiling were the women. Walter shrugged at them and continued directing orders.

"That was not a call to cease your actions. Everyone, get back to work," he ordered with an unforgiving hard clap to initiate the labor-intensive work again.

.•*´¨`*•.

"My friends!" The Regent announced in a resounding and strong voice, "My friends, may I have your undivided attention?"

The hall quieted down to a dull roar as each man and woman stood up to face their leader. Servants had begun to set down dished plates as the first course came in. Integra and Seras made their way silently through the crowd, passing Lord Anderson, to end up next to their father in support as he raised his arms.

"Today marks the first night of the weeklong celebration of the Grand Turneul Cavalerilor!"

Cheers made an infectious wave throughout the people as they listened on.

"I cannot express to you my gratitude in seeing of all the faces here today. Each and every one of you has gathered on common ground and under one common purpose: to celebrate my accomplishments and, by extension, to continue hindering the reach of the Ottoman Empire!"

More cheers accompanied this continuation.

"I know many of you have family members and friends who have died in the unsightly scene of battle, but know this: I will not rest, I will not pause, and I will not cease in our collective war against the Ottoman Empire until each last one in Mehmet's army is killed!"

Anderson shifted his weight and whispered by The Regent's side, "Perhaps the crowd is eager to hear of the tournament…"

The Regent paused in his ardent speech and presumed a calmer stance, "But onto lighter matters, I shall talk about the tourney. Whether you are participating in the tourney or a spectator, I can tell that this experience will be memorable! The stakes are high, and the prize being the fair hand of my loving daughter Seras!" he motioned down to Seras who managed a meek smile, "I expect any man who enters to play honorably, to respect his opposition honorably, and to honor his family and mine with a clean round. If any are caught cheating, they will be disqualified and their house disowned for the remainder of the tourney."

The noble houses each began to look at one another in fearsome glares in competition for the fair hand of Seras. Chins were jutted out, noses were turned up, and seats were scooted further apart from their neighbors as one by one each house exchanged shifty glances at the other. Sabotage was another piece of the game of which was secretly unspoken. The only man who truly looked sympathetic, the only person who remotely seemed concerned for her and slightly ajar about the situation, was Pip. He shared a sorrowful look with Seras as she gulped down in fear and bowed her head in submission.

"Now, you all know I'm not one for lengthy speeches, as I'm not the best orator in this land, but I will say this: Let the feast begin, and let it mark a grand new chapter in the year of our Lord 1453!" The Regent's voice commenced the piling of food and one more round of applause and cheer.

All sat down to enjoy the first course. Integra and Seras took to their seats and effortlessly assumed an etiquette of smile and charm -something that Lord Anderson had drilled into them since they were children. Their father lowered himself into his large carved throne chair and waved over the first course of meat. His large hands gripped five massive pig shanks and plopped them onto his plate. Integra was happy to see him comfortable, but she wished that he had not singled out Seras moments before. Taking a minute to look at the poor thing, she was just plain terrified and white as a sheet. Integra could not conceal her worried frown for long and easily felt it morph into an angered glower.

The Regent alarmingly noticed her change in expression, but he chose to ignore it, "I'm so happy to have you here," he kissed Integra's cheek and Seras's, "You have both grown into two beautiful young noblewomen. Perhaps the two most beautiful in all of Hungary, mayhap one day turning into true princesses. I trust you are enjoying yourselves?"

Seras smiled, "We are, father."

Integra felt her shoulders relax somewhat and realized her father would not pursue what she wished to discuss, not in front of so many nobles at the very least. Her father knew he would hear her piece sooner or later, but it had to wait in the face of so many he had to host and impress. Then Integra instantly remembered Anderson's words: '_if you mar his name for your own selfish gains, you will prove to be the suspicious little tarts I think you truly are'_. She shook her head, internally disagreeing with the statement, and assumed a graceful posture and sweet smile, "The noble houses seem content with the feast that Walter prepared," Integra looked out at the crowd sitting in their respective chairs. Count Gavros was not far enough from her, placed facing her across the room and constantly watching Integra's every move, Lady Illira and Johan, prospective Duke of Thuringia were sitting at the same large table with Integra and Seras. House Gregori, House Wojciechowski, House Kruskoph, and House Elkress all arrived and sat at their various tables. Other nobles and houses she knew were sprinkled here and there, yet there was no sign of Lord Victor or of his House. "The room is perfectly arranged and organized."

Anderson nodded, suspiciously eyeing her changing facial expressions, "As it should be, lass. I was the one who placed everything where it is," he then turned to his superior, "My lord, I have dire news of Ladislaus V. Frederick V is still refusing to release the boy to us, despite the fact that the Hungarian estates sent a deputation to Vienna to induce Frederick to surrender the child and the Holy Crown."

The Regent shook his head in sadness, ripping through another pig leg, "Ever since that fateful day almost ten years ago, when Vladislaus I, King of Hungary, died, politics has been less than sane. I fear that little boy Ladislaus V will not see another winter."

"Now, I passed Ulrich, Baron of Eyczing, and Ulrich II, Princely Count of Celje, in the Club Tower discussing their plans to take László by force. Now, under normal circumstances, I'd advise you against allying yourself with such an act of war, and an act of aggression at the very least, but-"

"Father, you should set aside some time to send soldiers for a journey to Austria. We must save the child and the Crown," Integra interrupted as she thumbed her hooped sleeve.

The Regent shot her a warning look, "Integra, leave the politics of this country to the men at this table. We are well and capable of deciding what is necessary on our own," his dark brown eyes lifted their gaze to Lord Anderson once more, "What say you, my Royal Vizier?"

Anderson sighed and raked a tired hand through his dark blonde hair, "I can't believe the words are flowing freely past my lips, but I agree with Lady Integra. My lord, you are the regent of a kingdom, one that you have devoted your entire life and soul into, and I will not have such an aged and tired man, who has already been through enough and given too much, now asked to be their king. It is one thing if your house is elected by the estates -that has merit and stands on its own- but when you have a child who is the rightful heir to the throne rotting away in some dungeon that his estranged relative threw him in, then there is no other call than a call to arms."

Integra felt herself smile at Anderson, quite possibly one of the first true times she ever had. She watched her father's expression change from denial to reluctantly willing. He placed a hand on his thick and bearded chin, chair pushed back and index finger tapping the bridge of his nose. Seras watched the transformation in curiosity. It was always awe-inspiring to hear Lord Anderson's words and how he had his own style of convincing her father of things. Where Integra was more forceful, Lord Anderson was more practical. He spoke The Regent's language, and every time the adviser attempted to gain her father's favor it was always through pragmatism.

The Regent made an exasperated noise but nodded, "Alright, I shall think on it. We must remember not to spread our forces thin, as there is ever an Ottoman threat. I fear that if we pull out more men, Wallachia will soon stand defenseless."

"Of course, my lord," Anderson turned up his sleeves and folded them neatly, recognizing when a conversation was ending, "I will deal with the heathen Frederick myself. So long as I exist, people who withhold the Holy Crown will be dealt with," he cracked his knuckles, "...and punished with the utmost severity imaginable."

Seras shuddered as his voice reminded her of an animal's growl and noticed her older sister grinning. Focusing on something with certain levity, she rather enjoyed their spots -not specifically sitting at The Regent's smaller table, as it was strictly reserved for him and his absent wife at the moment- the two girls were sitting at the perpendicular adjacent table.

Five large tables were used in the set up. Two were connected together to form a long table, two more connected across the room to face the first long table, and The Regent's table connected all four in a perpendicular style to create a massive horseshoe shape. The lesser houses were at the far ends of the long tables, and the ones seated closest to The Regent were of great import. It was a wonderful and controlled spectacle. Everything was in order and as it should be…except for one invisible problem within the depths of the castle. In the dark recesses of the high stone fortification, there lurked an unassuming villain to this perfect day.

.•*´¨`*•.

He had doused the torches and created a little niche for himself. The darkened room was difficult to work in, but he couldn't attract any attention to where he was. As long as no one suspected a thing, he would soon be free to move about the castle. The barrel he carried was set gently down on the floor as the man opened up the top and peered inside at his handiwork, but not before checking his corners.

Neatly folded and strapped to the sides of the inside were linen packets filled of gunpowder. He had arranged four rows of these, making sure that adequate spacing was used so as to maximize the explosion. Flicking packets that were also dangling from cross beams he had constructed, the assassin watched as they twirled for a moment, none of them bursting or rupturing and in need of repair. He grinned, satisfied. The assassin then pressed his hand to each of the packets adhered to the inner wall of the barrel; this was to make sure that they were strapped in correctly. Rarely did anyone know this, but in order to adequately explode this beauty, the dispersal of the gunpowder being used had to effectively contain enough air in between the spaces of the barrel to feed the fire, thus initiating the continuation of destruction. An amateur would pile the gunpowder in like sand, but the bomb quite possibly might not explode and would definitely not destroy as much as it could. Fortunately, his men had perfected the art.

The Assassin grinned as he couldn't feel anything that needed to be readjusted. Placing the lid back on, he lifted the barrel back onto his shoulders and made his way out of the room. Servants hardly noticed as he walked up a narrow staircase and blended into the crowd of frantic people on the ground floor.

Stopping a woman, he asked, "Could you point me in the direction of the feast? I'm afraid I'm lost, and The Regent will want his wine delivered soon."

She eyed him curiously for a moment, unable to deduce his muddled accent, "Walter did not debrief you on where everything should go? The kitchen is down the hall to your right. Talk to 'im."

The man grumbled when she did not give him directions to the hall specifically, but he soon shrugged. A minor detour. He walked briskly to the kitchen, only to find a throng of menservants and women maids placed at their stations and working the bread, salts, sweets, pork, boar, and some chopping up greens. His stomach growled, but the plight was easily ignored. Stepping forward, he began to ask for Walter, knowing perfectly well that all questions he had would defer him to this man.

.•*´¨`*•.

Walter helped assort more plates together as the other servants whisked them away to the hall. He sighed happily at the amounts that people were eating. At this rate, he might need to make another trip to the larder. After placing more vegetables onto a platter that was passed his way to be refilled, he motioned for a couple of men to bring forth the wine kegs.

"Wine and mead, this way to the Knight's Hall," he motioned up the stairs, "One barrel at a time! We aim to finish a whole keg before we replace it with another."

A tall and dark complexioned man stepped forward with a barrel carried on one side of his thick shoulder, "Wine for The Regent."

Walter nodded, "Up to the Knight's Hall you go," he waved the man off, "Up the staircase, down the corridor, and take the second door to your right."

The man nodded and turned on his heels, paving a large pathway in his broad wake as servants scooted out of his way.

"Walter," one of the maids clucked, "Matthias has gotten into the larder! He's just like the hounds! You must go and fetch him. Now. Before he gobbles everything."

"Oh, growing boys," Walter sighed and glanced back at the man moving up the stairs. Something made him glance again at the man. He looked…slightly different. Walter had known all of the kitchen staff, and this one he did not readily recognize. Perhaps it was one of the nobles' servants to chip in; the houses all had their own, and they were no doubt crawling all over the castle grounds.

Walter took a few steps in the direction of the larder when he stopped again. A strange feeling entered his body, one that he rarely experienced. His instinct ordered him to turn back around and follow the man to the hall. Slightly alarmed by the feeling that only happened one other time, Walter pivoted off the balls of his feet and made his way up the stairs, ignoring the maid's disgruntled scoff.

"I shall return," he reached for a torch and began the steps, "Or perhaps you could trouble yourself in retrieving the young lad yourself," he politely implied her next order and swished back around before she could back-talk.

.•*´¨`*•.

Closing the apothecary's door with a soft squeak, Victor made it out silently and exhaled. Vlad would survive, and Ladislaus was in healing hands; that much was certain. Refusing to take a moment to think, he ran to the nearest person he could find, who was five feet away, and grabbed him by the shoulders, "Where is the Knight's Hall?"

The man looked confused for a moment, "Wh-what?"

"Where is the Knight's Hall? I have important business there. You must tell me!" Victor shook the man.

"G-guards!" the servant shouted in fright at Victor's wild expression.

Two castle guards approached with caution and halted Victor.

"What's this?" one asked.

Victor took in a deep breath and calmed himself, "This incompetent servant is refusing to tell me where I need to be. I must get to the Knight's Hall. My…my house is there. The Noble House of Poděbrady. Perhaps you've heard of them? I am Lord Victor, son of Lord George of Kunštát and Poděbrady. My father wishes to see me. I fear it is urgent."

The guards placed a hand on him in relief, "Ah, the Knight's Hall is just up the stairs and down the corridor. It will be on your left hand side, my lord."

Victor graciously thanked the two as they took the servant by the collar and walked away stating how gross acts of misconduct in refusing to help a lord would throw him out of the castle if it happened again.

Whispering a silent prayer of forgiveness for the servant, with due haste Victor climbed the staircase and up to the next floor. The steps were high and spiraling, but he was sure he would make it in time. Tiny beads of sweat formed around his hairline as he pushed his muscles further, ignoring their screams as he flew past two maids who consequently fell over in Victor's whirl-wind sprint.

.•*´¨`*•.

Walter watched three men turn the last corner and into the hall as he himself trailed behind. One ferried salts, one was in possession of three mugs, and the last carried the barrel. What caused Walter to suddenly stop was when the last man, the one he did not recognize who was carrying the barrel, stumbled for a moment. He righted himself agilely, but what Walter noticed was a curious substance that leaked out of the side of the barrel and sprinkled to the ground.

Walter furtively made it to that corner. As he neared it, the manservant realized that it was not spilt wine at all, but in fact something in powdered form. Crouching to inspect, Walter pinched some into his fingers and rubbed it around. A black, acrimonious stench attacked his nostrils.

"W-wait," he brought the torch closer, failing to notice a blob of wax dripping off of the top. The blob sparked the powder as it fell to the floor and ignited it in a spurt of hot flame as it exploded in Walter's face. He jerked his head back in shock and wiped his face off, "No…this is what Ladislaus told me he and Vlad had talked about… This is…"

The manservant jumped up to his feet and sprinted to the Knight's Hall, nearly missing the last turn into the room. He panted uncontrollably as he scanned the room for the suspected man. Watching the nobles laugh, chortle, and tear into their food jovially had to be overlooked as Walter searched for people who were standing instead.

There!

The man was setting down his barrel first onto The Regent's table and smiling at the governor as he asked to be served a drink.

Walter inhaled and shouted at the top of his lungs, "PIP! THE REGENT! GRAB HIM! EVERYONE TAKE COVER! ASSASSIN!" he pointed to the man standing next to The Regent.

The mysterious man's charm eroded away as he realized he was discovered and reached for the closest candle. Guards from all across the room raced for him, toppling over things and smacking into the assassin.

The Regent stood up to back away as fast as possible as nobles throughout the area started to scream in panic. Pip's knee-jerk reaction caused him to charge The Regent at a full sprint. His body hit the noble so hard that they were both knocked over and collapsed down one of the three staircases that the hall provided.

Walter saw Integra and Seras look at him, confused and frozen in terror for a moment. The loyal manservant growled in frustration and sprinted to their table, successfully flipping it over in a haze of adrenaline as a barrier against what he knew was about to hit them. Walter had smacked into a dozen nobles trying to flee the scene as they ran for the stairs, but he fortunately got to Integra and Seras in time. He instinctively reached for the two girls.

The assassin braved through three guards before dropping the candle into the barrel.

Walter grabbed Integra's arm and pulled her and Seras close to him in a choking embrace as he pressed his back onto the barricaded table.

"For the House of Poděbrady!" the assassin roared at the top of his lungs, watching his own death ignite.

*As the candle fell into the depths of the barrel, it briefly illuminated, had anyone been there to look, a most curious arrangement of linen bags adhered in neat rows all about its inner wall and dangling from cross beams that ran about its frame like wooden ribs. As the flame licked the skin of the bags on its way down, a violent flaring of sparks burst forth from several spraying, flaming ribbons and powdery ashes about the inside, coating the other containers in fire. As the air in the barrel was consumed by the flames, had anyone been there to feel it, they might have noticed the whistling inrush of wind being sucked into the barrel's open head, the dark powder spilling out of the bags whisked into a grey cloud for the briefest of moments.

The wine barrel erupted in flames like a miniature volcano, thick black smoke belching upward with enough force to strike the ceiling as the expanding gasses within sought escape. It was not enough -not nearly enough. Half a second later, the barrel blew apart, fragments the size of an arm cart-wheeling about, spraying nobles with flaming shrapnel and splinters. Those on the same side of the room as the explosion felt their organs cave in and rupture, their bodies kicked into the air to be tossed like ragdolls against tables, chairs, walls, and other people. Eardrums ruptured and bled as the sound passed through human tolerance and kept going until, for everyone who survived, the world would be a ringing haze for days to come.

Undetonated bags of gunpowder flew from the explosion to burst on surfaces across the far side of the room, covering cowering survivors in burning ashes that melted skin and ignited hair. Clothes and tablecloths went up in flames, the stink of burning flesh mixing with the foul miasma of sulfur that permeated a room which now resembled a scene from Hell.

Thick black smoke settled in to coat everything in darkness, robbing the people of air and changing the screams of the survivors into hacking, gasping fits as they drowned in the thick tarry soup that was fast-filling their lungs.*

Nobles from around the room clawed at their bodies, desperately trying to pat out the flaming shrapnel bits that penetrated and ignited their clothing; but every time their hands came into contact with the inflicted areas, skin would slough off in sheets and only cause exponentially more pain.

Integra heard Seras scream as the barricaded table shielding them from the blast was shoved violently as a response to the compression wave that burst outward. The table hurled them to the walls of the castle and crashed into the rock with a resounding quake of aftermath. It groaned, but the hard, thick, and aged wood did not break.

Walter braced himself as he felt his body slammed into the rock wall. He was pushed away from Integra and Seras, releasing his embrace on them as they each were thrown mercilessly into the castle wall. Bones cracked and caved with each person, followed by pained moans and yelps as the wood finally settled in its new and cramped spot.

Focusing his eyes as he raised his arm, Walter discovered that the limb was broken in two places and dangling from his elbow. He quickly turned away from the horrid sight, thankful for the numbness that had spread all across his arm, to check on Integra and Seras. There was absolutely no time whatsoever to worry about his own health.

Both girls were not responding to Walter's cries. He shouted their names, or he thought he did. The deafening cracks of the explosion made Walter feel as though his ears had nearly ruptured. He assumed he was yelling their names, but it just sounded like he was speaking under water, if at all. He managed to gain control of his legs and began to scoot closer to the girls.

Seras was the first to wake, instantly covering her ears in agony as a flaming packet fell straight into her lap, setting her dress on fire. She screamed and swatted it away, searing her fingers in the process. Glancing up, she saw Walter crawling over with one good arm and wrapping it around as much of her body as he could, patting down her singed hair and dress as more undetonated linen wraps of gunpowder showered over them. Walter suddenly felt a deep and bottomless pit of dread in his stomach that warned him something far worse was about to rear its ugly head. Sure enough, on cue, an acrimonious plume of continuous smoke coasted in over the table.

"Where is Integra?" Walter began to hack on the spreading, caustic cloud. Seras shook her head and glanced around in what little space was offered as visible.

"Integra!" she shouted, though all that answered were the excruciating outcries of other people in the room, slowly choking and gargling.

.•*´¨`*•.

Victor's body was blown back down the staircase from the initial blast as he careened off the spiraling wall. He gasped in pain as he began to fall further and further down the steps he had just ascended. With one giant act, he stomped his feet down and clawed at the passing steps to cease his gathering momentum; he bashed into the wall and dropped into a heap on the last set of stairs at an uncomfortable angle.

All he could begin to hear within his close vicinity were the wails of people; but before Victor heard anything at all, he felt the warmth of a fire on his skin. Something was burning, and it was burning fast.

Victor groaned in determined frustration, though it was filled with fatigue, and raised himself by his arms into a sitting position.

"Come on, Victor, get up," he chided and worked his legs until they allowed him to stand.

Wobbly and shaky for a moment, he gripped the wall and pushed himself forward and up the stairs once more. Hearing nearing screams and wails egged him to go faster as he trail-blazed back up the stairs in seven-league boots.

Skidding at the top and around the corner, he was hit with a massive wave of smoke that instantly filled his lungs. He hacked and spat, but waded his way through, the only light provided being the flickering, spreading fire. People smacked into him, blindly rushing the exits with burnt fingers and clothes and often bleeding from more than one orifice. The unsightly spectacle of it was enough to make his instincts almost coerce him into running back to safety, but he pressed on until his foot hit something solid. Crouching, he noticed a man trying to drag two young women who were choking to death out of the room. Victor's mouth dropped as he recognized who one of the ladies was.

"Lady Integra!" Victor exclaimed and rushed in, picking her up by the waist and reaching for Seras as well. He paused to look down at their servant, but he promptly shooed them off.

"Go! Take both of them to safety!" Walter gasped for air, crawling as fast as he could to outrun the fire that had ignited the carpets.

Victor marched through the sludgy air of the hall until, in his good height, he could see the staircase he had used previously to enter. Noting that the smoke was wafting down the steps, he made a mad dash up one floor and set the coughing and dazed girls down for a clean air respite. They were both hardly conscious, but Integra managed to reach out and grip his arm.

"G-get Walter. Our servant. Retrieve him without fail," she inhaled to hack once more and saw the man nod. She then closed her eyes in relief as exhaustion overcame her and she finally blacked out, the world turning darkly peaceful for a time.

.•*´¨`*•.

Special thanks to my brother who wrote the explody scene and explained how it created a compression wave that then exploded outward to hit everyone, and then DEEAAD. He wrote that scene far better than I could have. It is shown within the asterisks marks I made for you guys. Explore his genius. DEW IT!

~You know, I used to be an adventurer like you, but then I took shrapnel wood to the face~

I might change this chapter a little bit, but not much. Hoped you liked the chaos.

**To Soul93:** If you thought this one needed to be continued right away, you're gonna hate me for chapter 21 :3 You're gonna hate me. Heey, I like Victor too. There's no shame in admitting it :)

**To The Avenger07:** Seneschal Marius is meant to be slightly comical. I'm glad you found him so. For some reason I think of him as Belle's father in Beauty and The Beast. That rotund belly and cute button nose, yet oddly not coordinated, has the potential to be a genius, yet he's not listened to. Mostly. Till the end. Ha! You think of Thor? Interesting. I hope intelligence runs in the family. Yes, I try to teach you and I things while I write :)

"Man's mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions."  
>― Oliver Wendell Holms Sr.<p>

**To Shinkicker:** My brother and I spent a couple minutes thinking of those as I posted the chapter. Funny you should come up with one too. CSI: Miami Yeeeeaaaahhhh meme references ftw! Fertilizer bombs were not invented yet, no. And depending on how much gunpowder, the distribution of it, the packing of it (in little baggies or all piled in like sand), and what you use to pack it with (a barrel or a sack etc.) can all manipulate the explosion. Same goes for fertilizer bombs. As for your last comment, well, that's what Vlad's been hoping this whole time! _When is that regent gonna wake up and realize that I can run this show twice around his head and get the results that he needs?_

**To hellsingfan101**: Spoiler! They all won't make it! Vlad loses his mind and goes on a killing spree to seek revenge, the events culminate in his downfall to oblivion where he then takes his life and turns into a vampire! …Or…I could just be trollin' ya…

**To Sylvan Moon: **This chapter was even larger than I had expected. And the next one is nine pages. I certainly haven't kept my part of the rule standing strong. It's crumbling; I can feel it.

**To anon Reader: **Aye, I was hoping someone would comment on ALL o' that. I understand your hesitance at reading AU's in this genre. I've seen authors who can pull it off gracefully, but it's not a gift that everyone has. As for me, I just try to survive it with each ongoing chapter and hope it entertains my readers. If they're satisfied, then that's all I could hope to ask for. I am surprised that you especially disfavor them when there are historical figures present. To me, the story gains bonus credit and adds some truth to the fictitious tale. But that's just me.

Ha! When would I use rhetorical skills against foreigners? Besides, I recently attended a wedding, the groom being Croatian, and he knew more than I about my own country's history! But, then again, he IS a genius. I never underestimate anyone, no matter his or her country of origin.

Thank you. The vivid description is what I strain on the most. I've seen writers on here who do it effortlessly, but always know that I do try my hardest on that. Dialogue alone is exceedingly simple to compose, as it nearly writes itself with such a great cast. Vivid imagery of the scenes is what constantly slows me down, yet I am always happy and content with the product.

Oh, don't be so humble. Take some credit, friend. It may feed your ego, but, more importantly, it strengthens your confidence. Your English is far better than you think. You've used words like 'daresay', phrases like 'brutish, yet progressing dawn', _and_ wielded grammar correctly! That's another skill set that few learn in these modern days. You've painted me a picture of your words, telltale signs of an aspiring writer, I hope. My English is not advanced :) I just throw ten-dollar words at you.

**To anon Reader & to all who wish for more information on the last chapter**: …and I guess a little bit about me. Hrmm.

Yes, I studied some medieval in my high school years, and I fortunately had a brilliant teacher with an encyclopedic mind that I ever dissected in class. We read many a Shakespeare play, rewound further back to Chaucer, and even to some nameless scriptures that had old German-influenced English that I can still quote and understand to this day. It takes a bit of practice, but I don't even pass muster when placed next to my mother.

Did a bit of nosing around for the information on the apothecary, but all I really had to remember was that they were, in their own right, the pioneers of pharmacy. I knew that they had dispensed and distributed medical materials to others, and might I say that watching BBC Merlin enlightened me on the subject as well! Gaius is what I had in mind; I just could not use an English name.

Yes, some facts are now forced to be inherently wrong as the Hellsing cast is introduced. Their very presence necessitates that some facts be changed, and not everyone actually notices this. However, they are small facts…little things. And what I actually create using the Hellsing cast are dominoes that cascade downward to create the real historical events. What is often given in researching medieval history are dates and facts, but not the consequences of previous things that brought about the historical events. There might be a sentence or two on what transpired between this and that faction, but it leaves me to pull up my high boots and sink into the muddy details. That's what I love about it -the fact that there are gaps in the timeline. It gives me the contour lines of a sketch and lets me fill in the shading and color, even the finishing touches. I'm glad you think of it as an image as well.

Yes…superstition I try not to delve into too much, for it is greatly misleading to actual facts and to an extent the plot itself. I did say 'humors', though, but then promptly stated what Zargo really meant by it in the next added dialogue piece when he then said 'blood'. Often were the times where medical personnel would try to drain one of the four humors (or temperaments) [that was actually just blood] in their patients to 'balance the four back to health' -sanguine: pleasure, sociable, content; choleric: bitter attitude, testy and self-righteous nature; melancholy: soft and quiet, perhaps even sad and pensive; and lastly phlegmatic: lazy idleness, and inactive sluggishness. I also could not have misled my readers, so I had the cast understand what a coma was, relatively speaking.

I'm very flattered that I've created the progressing dawn of the Early Modern Age, though I'm a few hundred years shy of it. But I suppose it _is_ a 'progressing' dawn.

As it is, I'm thankful for your long review, and I apologize for writing so much and burdening you with this even longer response.

(To my reviewers: if you've read up to this point, then good on you. Now you've learned things I will reference back to.)


	21. Confounding Confessions

**A/N: **I'm changing the title! Warning to all who don't have this favorited on FanFic. The title will be changed to Mercurial Medieval Misdeeds. Why so many 'M's? Because this story should be changed to M for what I think should happen :) teehee

This 'Times of a Wallachian' blah blah had too many words in it, and I've been wishing to change it for some time. It was a working title. Fear not! I will give people two chapters to adjust -this one and the next.

This chapter has haunted me for a while. But I knew I had to write it, so here it is. LEMON ALERT! Don't run hastily to it. It's a slow and steady rush.

My eyes watered from the citrusy goodness.

If anyone hates me for this chapter, or where I left it, then I've written it well. If you don't hate me, then...just...wow...I don't even...

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Confounding Confessions

Integra woke up to the sounds of birds chirping in the cross-breeze. Before sensing where she was, Integra could feel the sunlight shining on her backside. She opened her eyes meekly to the light of the window -_her_ window in _her_ room.

The young lady stretched her arms within the blanket's folds and sighed happily. The breeze was chilling, but it had a touching and warm familiarity to it. Winter would be arriving soon, and crops would wither, prompting farmers to save up their goods. The changing foliage always decayed beautifully, leaving in its wake a covering of snow that would begin the cycle of growth once more -plants emerging from the ice like a phoenix from its ashes. Integra enjoyed watching the cycle greatly, but a sudden flood of memories tore through her peaceful thoughts like a scythe in a wheat field.

"Oh!" she shot up in her bed, remembering the past events of the night of the explosion.

The commencing dinner.  
>The speech.<br>The shout to take cover.  
>Pip tackling her father and falling down a stairwell.<br>And then the flash of light followed by the most deafening cracks of explosions.

"Father! Mother!" Integra shouted as she began to rip off her blankets, but not before feeling herself. Everywhere ached in pain, was bleeding in scrapes, was broken and bandaged in a primitive splint, or was purple with bruises. Tears of agony spilled out across her face as a shadow appeared and thrust something hot and burning down her throat.

"The Regent is safe, if not a bit bruised and out of sorts," Walter suddenly appeared and grasped her hands to kiss them, "Shh, everything is alright." His eyes were blackened and bruised, his hair patched with bald spots, there were bandages across his entire front poking out of his attire, and his left arm was in a sling with wrappings up to his shoulder. Pip was also present with an encouraging smile and no injuries of which to speak.

Integra gasped when she herself felt bald spots across her scalp, bare and naked for all the world to see, "My hair...Where is-"

"Seras was sitting next to you, Matthias was in the kitchen sneak-eating, and your mother was trying to find the ladies-in-waiting. They are all of them now sleeping in their respective rooms, as was Pip and I. Your father is in his chambers also sleeping off his wounds. We recovered quicker than most."

"And the casualties?"

"There were many casualties. The men who tackled the Assassin closest to the barrel that exploded were killed -you saw the flying body parts of burnt fingers, a torso here, a foot there, part of a head still in its helmet. The nobles all along that side of the table were hit with shrapnel pieces of wood and killed by the blast. Anyone who was close to the barrel and had exposed flesh was burned severely and knocked into the wall. The rest of us on the other side of the room who barricaded were knocked down with broken bones or have severe burns from the fire thereafter."

"How long was I asleep?"

"About two days," Pip answered as Walter deferred to his information.

Integra felt her arms tighten and her fists clench, her eyesight even morphing into a red haze.

"Who did this?" her voice sounded deep and gravely, trickling with vengeance.

Pip smiled, "My lady, that's what we are currently figuring out. The best place for you is to be here, next to your younger sister," he looked downward at Seras with restrained adoration.

Integra turned her neck and felt it strain, but the sight of her sister sleeping so soundly caused her rage from within to simmer down to a low boil. There were a few scrapes that saddened the perfect picture of a mop of strawberry-blonde curls, and there were myriad bruises -some even continuing underneath her blankets. Her head was wrapped in bandages as well with the slightest hint of red blood peeking at the surface. The look of plain white terror had vanished and Seras's body had relaxed, at least. The balanced state of tranquility had been restored, if only for a time.

Pip's smile softened to passivity, "You heard the last words that the Assassin declared, correct?"

Integra fought through her mental barriers that were already erecting walls to repress the raw and still bleeding memories within her psyche. However, it only took her a second to remember the unfortunate name that resounded in her head over and over.

"Yes, I do. 'For the House of Poděbrady'. I do not-I _refuse_ to believe him," she heard herself say.

Walter nodded and gave her hand a light squeeze, "His family is being investigated as we speak, my lady. We cannot blithely throw a noble house in the dungeon, but, as you recall, Lord George was not there."

"But Victor _was_. He was the first person I saw as the explosion rocked us and nearly split the tables in two. He raced up to me and carried me out. Victor dragged twenty others. He is a hero! He could not have done this," Integra assured him as she uncovered herself from the comfort of the warm blankets once more, only to look horrified at her blue and purple legs, one of which had the worst imaginable gash along her shin.

Pip made her drink from the cup once more, and Integra began to relax, taking the drink and gulping down the rest of it. She recognized the taste now. It was hard mead.

Walter looked up into her eyes and witnessed genuine concern and strong belief, "You recognized him from the portrait that you two exchanged of one another, and he you, as well."

"Yes, and I will not have him in the dungeon because of what some Assassin stated. The Assassin could as well be setting a family up for execution in the hope that it would destabilize our unity against the Ottoman Empire's threat!" she reasoned and inhaled for air, realizing that she had placed too much faith in her kingdom.

Walter chuckled and patted the top of her head, "My, my. Still as keen and perceptive as ever, even with a few bumps on your forehead. Fear not, Victor is in no dungeon, for it was he who dragged all of us out of the deadly smoke and fire. Were it not for his bold and daring act, you and I might not be talking here today. His father is the one in question."

A somber expression weighed down her delicate features, "His family I cannot vouch for," she then frowned at the ground, "Wait…how could Victor know about an Assassin and warn us in the nick of time if his family did NOT contract one against us?"

Walter then changed positions in his seat. At first, Integra took a moment to observe just what it was that caused it, but then she realized that it was an overhanging feeling of dread with an undertone of despair. He looked at her from an angle, which she instantly recognized as his position assumed when dealing with a very delicate matter at which she would usually blow up. Reaching down, he pulled up a full bottle of mead and filled Integra's glass, handing it to her.

"There…is another problem. Ladislaus and Vlad returned, and they were the ones who caught wind of this Assassin. It was a product from their trip to Bagamér, when Ladislaus found a scrap of cloth bearing the lion of Ismail -their sign. They both had an inkling that it was a trap to lure Ladislaus out and into the open, away from the safety of the castle."

_So that is where Vlad roamed off to_…Integra interrupted, "What is the problem, then?" Her head felt slightly heavy.

Walter swallowed and cleared his throat, "The problem is that they were right, and not only were they right, but a team of Assassins ambushed them and murdered everyone. They were the only survivors."

"Are they alright?" she reached for his sleeve and felt her heart beat faster with every passing second that was silent, "ARE THEY? Walter!"

"Ladislaus is beyond reach. He is all but gone to us. He is unresponsive to any stimuli we give him but he continues to breathe. Zargo, our apothecary, believes it to be a slight coma. He is still alive but he must be dressed, fed, and changed daily. He just…he just sleeps and sleeps. That is the best way I can describe it. Victor found them in the brush not a mile outside of the castle, and that was when Vlad explained to him everything that had transpired," Walter stopped talking to hug Integra.

Her eyes began to mist and then water the fronts of her cheeks like a rain flood in the spring. She choked back soft sobs and pushed against Walter, loath to receive any affection. But his grip overpowered her weak and purple arms as they screamed in pain from exertion. She gave in and succumbed to his warm embrace.

"L-let go of me," her body stiffened in hot enmity as she controlled her crying to a standstill.

He hesitantly released her and backed away, standing up. She could immediately tell that his feelings were hurt, though it took an expert to notice, "Your ladies-in-waiting shall arrive any minute to take care of you. I have some important business to which I must attend. Will you be alright here?"

She nodded, "Where is Ladislaus now?" Integra asked as kindly as she could.

Pip answered, "In the barracks. He was originally with Zargo, but his room is now filled with the injured and their more immediate needs. Farewell, my lady," he left the room.

"If there is anything you need, I am but a step away," Walter paused for a moment in the hope that she would want him to return to her, but when all she did was nod, Walter bowed, shut the door, and continued on down the hallway with Pip to The Regent's chamber.

.•*´¨`*•.

Vlad turned in his bed and heard the cot squeak in frustration at him. He groaned in pain as it felt like thousands of needles were pinching, poking, and prodding at his entire right side. They each stabbed and jabbed at his numb flesh that was beginning to sense again, staying a moment to sting his nerves and then ceasing. The man sensed that he was in a cold sweat and threw the bed sheets off of himself for fresh, cool air to seep in.

A noise that rustled in the background caused his body to stop and his ears to listen. It was sniffling -light sniffling right across from his bed. Vlad relaxed and opened his eyes to slits as he spied on whom it could be.

Integra was holding Ladislaus's hand in her lap and tracing his palm gently while another hand fed her mouth a bottle of mead. She was watching the occasional teardrop splatter down on her undergarments.

Wait. She was wearing only her undergarments? How unseemly. How unsightly for a lady of her upbringing. It made Vlad smile.

Vlad opened his eyes a little more and focused his hearing on what she was whispering.

"Why…why, why, why? Why you? Why couldin' it ha' been someone elsh? Why not some ooother famlee? Why us? Ladishlaus, if…" Integra swallowed back a lump in her throat that was battling her to reach the surface, "If you c'n hear me, you'rr t'get well. You are not to die, yeh understland me?"

There was no response. Integra gritted her teeth as the room spun for a moment. She had sat there for an hour now, watching over him, drinking her pain away, and there was no way she was going to leave without some sort of response.

"I knooow tha Walter n' the athepothecary ha' been tryin ta stimmmulate some sort o' response out of yu, and yu have beeeen less th'n helpful in givin them wha they waent. So herez yer stimululusss," Integra growled, "If yu doon't make it, I shalls turn inta a droooling lunatic, slaughterrr the erryone in my wake, n' run throuugh the streetz in my small clothes!"

She only had to wait a moment before his hand twitched and almost fell out of her lap. For a split second, she saw his eyebrows knit into a menacing frown, but it vanished all within the blink of an eye.

Integra smiled, though it was distorted from her own mal-intent, "I thought yu'd dislike tha' favorlably over everythin' else I had."

He simply looked like he was in a deep sleep. It reminded her of the times when she would wake before him and her father would make her wake Ladislaus up for breakfast. Integra would enter his room and he'd supposedly be 'asleep', but upon lightly tapping him to wake up and peering into the covers, his eyes would open and his face would liven to a shark as he'd roar to scar her. Integra chuckled dryly at the memory and as she recalled her younger self racing out of the room in tears of frustration and anger.

The levity in the room dimmed back to its dark reality as she sighed once more from his lack of motion, taking another hit to the bottle. His bandaged chest rose and fell with each passing moment, but that was the only sign she could hold on to that proved he still lived -that and his nearly nonexistent pulse. And looking at the ghastly wound as the red, with each hour, still seeped to the surface was almost too much to bear on her conscience without wanting to murder someone deserving. Though she would not admit it, the experience was agonizing. But at least he was alive. He wouldn't be, were it not for…

Her gaze shifted to another bed across from Ladislaus to another soldier who was sleeping. Bringing her brother's hand up to her face, she kissed the palm of it sloppily and returned it into the blankets to keep warm. She then stood up with a wobble and made her way silently over to Vlad. Reaching for a chair, Integra plopped herself in it, nearly missing the seat, and watched the Wallachian's movement. He was more animated than Ladislaus, turning and breathing deeper inhalations.

She sat there for a long while, unsure of what to say to the overexerted and exhausted man whose culminated efforts had brought her brother back to safety. She owed him now. She owed him a great deal.

Instead, she decided to treat herself to his handsome looks. Integra had forgotten how comely he was, her eyes taking their time as they perused his facial features, stopping at his pointed nose, sharp jaw line, and thick eyebrows.

"Harrrsh, yet ruggedly beyutiful," Integra whispered with a slack jaw as her fingers dared to trace his warm cheekbones and wander down to his collarbone. She then pressed her entire hand onto his chest and consequently felt a strong heartbeat answer to her light pressure against it. It soothed her nerves to feel something alive in his chest, much unlike her brother twenty feet away. She could barely feel anything moving underneath his colder skin.

"I…I'm at a loss fer wordz. I s'ppose yu won tha contest, Veladeemer," she wryly grinned. It fell when he did not move.

"I…yu saved mye brother. Yu did not eveeen ha' to. Ya cuda run, like any sane hyuman. In facts," Integra thought about it for a moment, "I'm fairly certain tha' Ladisshhlaus probably _did_ order yu ta leave. Bu' yu derdnott, and I c'n only eeemagine why."

She sniffled again, taking in a shaky breath, "Whedder it wa' stubborn determllination, yer own perssonal gain, or an act o' selfless, puuure care on yer part, I 'm ignorrantly happyy."

He roused for a moment but relaxed back into the pillows.

"Ah know you'll never heer this frem me," Integra gulped and reached for his hand, "Bu' I…I…I am…humbled by wha' you've done. I owe yu that much. If therez ever anythin' yu need thatz attainable, lemme know."

Integra nodded at her piece and went to retract her hand from his chest when she realized that his own hand was atop hers. His left hand lightly squeezed her right hand, and for once she did not resist him. His lips parted and curled upward into a crooked leer as his hazel eyes opened to look upon the fair maiden.

"Touching words with your hand boldly on my chest," he murmured, amused beyond words at his good fortune that she was plastered.

She snorted, "Korrect me if Ahm wrong, bu' I believes yer the one whoz now keepin' me hand on you; not I."

"You're injured," he looked her discolored arms over and gently reached up to the patches of her golden hair that were singed and falling out. He tried desperately to conceal the anger and disappointment in himself within his tone, but thankfully she was not terribly receptive to the environment around her, "I should have been there."

"Itz nawthing. 'sides, me n' Walter epic-battled the Assassin by makin a barrier by flippin o'er the table so it abzorbed the shok wave," Integra made chopping motions with her numb arms at Vlad, who was the 'Assassin'.

Vlad laughed down a deep chuckle and slowly sat up to move her hand into his lap. She felt slightly invasive but made sure to display no outwardly sign of it.

In her impaired state, Vlad could read every emotion on her face, despite her heroic efforts to conceal them. Vlad muffled an otherwise very loud groan in his throat so as to look less hurt than he was feeling. His eyes watched her uneasy transition as she looked at his bruised ribs and bandaged right side. There was no doubt about it: the expression was concern. This pleased him greatly.

"Do you wish to see all of the wounds?" he asked, "You have already helped to heal one of them," he let go of her hand and tore the wrappings off of his chest and torso with ease, unraveling the rest layer by layer.

Integra stifled a gasp as she began to see more and more of his skin, "Holy angelsss...enticing," her eyes hungrily consumed every exposed bit, but she double took, "Oh, did I juss say tha' aloud?"

Though a big portion of it was the fact that he was noticeably tone underneath, it was also from all of the scars she saw. Like white tracer lines of clouds in the clear skies of summer, they were uplifted from his skin along his front and curling around the shoulders to his back to form jagged patterns like a puzzle piece. Fitting, since he was the puzzle of her lifetime.

"Let me show you," he smirked at her crass compliment and lifted the last piece of thick wrapping off of his chest.

She observed the last of a battle wound healing into a new, white scar line that added to his imperfections. And yet, the marking was beautiful on his left pectoral muscle. It was a testament to all of the skirmishes and battles he had lived through, each one of them telling a different tale of close calls and cheating death, of daring moves and miscalculated steps, all of which nearly ended his life but yet saved him as well. Her eyes danced rapidly from one scar to the next, imagining all of the things he had witnessed, fights that had arisen, and words that had provoked those fights to what are now held as memories within the thin strips of each scar.

Integra then looked up at him with unabashed courage mixed with four bottles of mead. Vlad realized that she was waiting on him to do something, giving him the first taste of what free reign felt like, if only for a moment.

He took her hand out of his lap and pressed her index finger gently on that scar, feeling her trace it with curiosity.

"Tell me ther story o' this here scarr," she breathed, her blue sapphires fixated on its rigid texture.

Vlad chuckled as he un-bandaged his right arm, "It was in hand-to-hand combat while mounted on Hadúr. I was fighting an Assassin when he pulled out a curved knife and plunged it into the depths of my shoulder cap, snapping the leather strap that holds my chest-plate and the cap together as it was ripped open. He then raised his arm again and struck down as I decapitated him with my sword."

Integra's eyes lit up in intrigue, "Impresspive."

He nodded silently -thoughts elsewhere and face pensive- and reached for her hand. It was then that Integra realized he had ceased holding her hand to his chest and that she was voluntarily maintaining contact with him. It was too late for her to register anything else, as Vlad had moved her index finger diagonally down to his right bicep and planted it there for her to explore. The room swirled as her head looked down at the next wound.

Integra traced the scar first, but then she felt the strong muscle underneath it. It was perfectly sculpted, as was the tissue around it as far as she was concerned.

"N' this here one?" she hummed as her thoughts took to a tune.

"This one was on the retreat as I was carrying Ladislaus away from the fray," he watched her body slump at the drop of her brother's name, "I had turned my back and one expertly deft-handed Assassin threw his last dagger at me, clipping my armor in the side and caving it in to scrape along my skin to form this."

Integra traced his arm once more and smiled approvingly. Whether it was from the close call with himself or from the fact that it was in the act of saving Ladislaus, he was unsure. It could have easily been the drink talking as well. All he knew was that Integra, the most beautiful maiden in the entire kingdom, was sharing a smile with him -someone so undeserving of the heavenly sight.

Vlad's grin widened as he watched his world entertain herself simply with his imperfections. She _liked_ them, was fascinated _by_ them, wanted to know _of_ them, and, above all, _accepted_ them. She did not turn away in disgust or fear. She did not recoil in hostile distaste and disfavor. She rather enjoyed them. It was endearing to see and enlightening for him to realize it, even though the cutest bit of drool was accompanied with the spectacle.

Integra looked up to see an expression not easily adapted to his face. For a moment, in his raw emotion, she thought she saw weakness in his strength to resist her, to act as coy as she. Integra witnessed adoration caper across his face at the most likely of moments. But what Integra did not plan for was a similar feeling of affection erupting its way to the surface within her. She battled with it fruitlessly, taking everything that was hitting her in broad strokes. However, it was too much, courtesy of the mead.

He ripped his stare away from her and exhaled slowly, "Your hand…"

Integra felt Vlad's bicep flex in response to her tightened grip along his wound.

"Oh deary," she instantly released and jerked her hands to her sides, where they should have been this entire time and wriggling to keep balance at the sudden motion.

He laughed softly and shook his head, "You surprise me so."

"I dooo?" Integra's disbelief was clear in the inquiring and slurred question.

He nodded, "More than one bottle of hard mead and you still comprehend my information, let alone remain conscious with each swig."

She waited for further explanation, or perhaps she was blanking with that deadpan stare. He continued.

"More importantly…you did not cringe away from me, you gravitated. My scars did not displease you, they enraptured you," he paused to truly look at her, without crimson-tinted glasses, "You are not afraid of me, daunted by me, or intimidated by me. You-"

Integra hushed him with her index finger to his lips, though they slightly missed their mark and hit his scruffy chin, "Shhhhhh…Stop it, youu." The demand was directed more at her mind for wanting him to continue, though he could never know that. She corrected where her finger was supposed to be, "Mah mind secretly wants yu to continyu, but doon't." _Damnation…_

Vlad paused, grinning at how adorable she was, but he wanted to be heard. He had to let it out of him. He needed her to hear it. He needed her to _face_ _it_, just as he had.

"Integra," he murmured his liberator's name and touched her finger, feeling it move with his lips as he spoke. His hand trailed down her arm to her elbow and grasped it with a large hand.

She did not fight the touch, but what made her gasp was that he yanked her towards him in one determined pull. The action was so abrupt that she was lifted from her seat and fell halfway onto the bed. She gazed up at his up-right position and slithered away from his domineering stance.

"Weeee," she weakly said and attempted to smile.

"Now listen," his voice changed to hardened assertion.

"No, yu listen. Vlademeeer, if ther was any shrred o' humanitee in yu, you wud stop this flooishness," she attempted as she sat up as well, falling the first time and righting her undergarments. God, she was wearing her undergarments in front of him.

He paused in shocked irritation, "'Foolishness'? What is foolish about the truth, woman? You said to me not five minutes ago that you would give to me anything that was attainable," he let her piece it together, though it took her alcohol-dampened mind a minute to come to the conclusion.

Integra sensed her erupting drunkard affection morphing into rancorous hatred, "I am no attainable peerson, yu laggard! I. AM. TO. BEE. WED. SOOON. Doon't yu understand the implifcationons o' what being married _are_?"

"Of course I know what it means and its implications! I care not for rules. All I want to know is if this is what you truly want," his body tensed in anger, revealing more trimmed muscles on his torso, leading all the way up to his neck.

Integra found it difficult to concentrate with such bare skin shown and the hindrance of her drink, "I…It's…What're you on aboout? I'ma woman. I have no choice. I am ta be bawt. I am the propeerty of my father, soon ta be sold to Vickter."

"Victor," Vlad spat, "What a clean-nosed, silver-spooned, complacent little boy! You want _him_?"

"I-"

"Because I've stepped in things that looked better than him," Vlad continued, body rigid, "He offers you _nothing_. Riches and wealth. You will be the woman who has everything…and nothing. You will grow bored and restless of your complacency. You will hunger for action, as I do. You will hunger for adventure, as I do. Much blood will be shed in the upcoming years; that much is certain. Do you wish to be that woman in the tower, watching the world as it burns? Would you fling yourself off of the balcony to your death, a coward's death, or would you rush down the staircase, pick up your husband's spare sword, and join the battle?"

"Make no mistakke o' it," Integra bared her teeth at him, clearly insulted that he would juxtapose her next to a coward, "I'am a woman of ackshun, but my gendder dictates tha I cannot be. I don't have th' powerr to belay or countermand wha' mye father wishes. What wud yoo have me doo?" she asked angrily with the intent that he would say nothing in return. Again, her foresight was all but slain, so she did not anticipate any answer, least of all what he stated in response.

Vlad roared in anger, "I would have you take _me_ instead!"

Integra slapped him straight across the face, "Do no EVER yell a' mee again," she watched his chest rise and fall quickly in response to its sting, but he stayed silent, "To do this," she gestured to all of Vlad as she swayed on her spot on the bed, "…ta a young woman, ta _taunt_ her like thisss…it wud tear her down."

He scoffed in disbelief, "What is there to taunt? To taunt is to wave something that one wants without the intent of giving it to the desiring person. That is the exact _opposite_ of what I intend to do."

"W-wha' didja say?" she sat in front of him with her hands on her hips in skepticism, though her eyes were as wide as dinner platters.

"I am committed to you!" he feverishly spoke and lifted up the blanket on his right side to expose the reddened bandage on his leg, "That wound is testament to how much I care for you. I risked my life to save your brother and bring him back. That was not borne of a desire to please The Regent and remain in his good graces. I did this for YOU!"

It was her pause that dictated the scene was too long as he leaned in and took hold of her shoulders with one good arm. Surprisingly, she resisted only once in one great heave to the side in which she nearly toppled over. That was when Vlad's right arm surged upward and created a barrier for her not to cross. He was pleased that it was healing and responded, though it might have been due to a swell of adrenaline that was now pumping in his veins. The thousands of needles pinching at his nerves subsided for a moment.

She scowled and locked eyes with him, wishing to add more scratches to the patina of scars he already possessed. Somehow, on some level, she knew that would only amuse him. She could do no more physical harm to him, but emotional damage…

Sliding his left arm around her back, Vlad gingerly brought her closer. Integra eventually felt his broad and bare chest caress her as his arms encircled as much of her body as they could. Her forehead was tickled by his scruff since he had not shaved in a few days. Integra felt his form relax and heard him sigh happily, peering down to see her expression.

Integra grumbled, tugging away from him every now and then, but also using his arms as a balancing tool, until she became used to his presence. She hated physical contact…or so she had thought; but his body was like a personal fireplace and warmed her slightly shivering self. Pressing her ear to his heart, she heard its soft and slow beating. She began to count the beats. One two, one two, one two. It was a rhythm that kept her frazzled nerves from bursting in that moment; but every time he moved she became increasingly mentally undone.

Taking another gulp of the mead, Integra found herself unwillingly placing her right hand on his heart_. It was the drink_, she cursed, but no words formed at her mouth. They were the two of them nearly passed words now. Upon her contact, his good hand trailed from her back to situate on top of her knuckles, stroking them with his thumb.

"It belongs to you, my savior, to do with it what you will," he murmured into her ear and felt her shudder in pleasure and anticipation.

Integra suddenly eyed him as prey and grinned, raising her face up to his, though her eyes were droopy, "Youu dare give me somethin' so valyuable, so delicate, an' so eazily crushhhable?"

"I do," he spoke without pausing to think; he didn't have to, "Despite all of your ambitions, you are still human. You will always be human and retain your humanity, along with all of the moral codes of conduct that are attached fringe benefits. I, however, have lost it." Vlad charted her burnt nose, her saggy eyes, her spotted hairline, and her scraped lips as she spoke back.

"No," Integra shook her head, still grinning, "Therez a portion of you tha' still feels, tha' still haz honor, tha' still'z human. Yer not dead 'nside yet."

Vlad shook his head again, remarking on her incredible tolerance for alcohol. Half-deformed, nearly burnt to a crisp, broken bones and patches of hair completely gone, and she was _still_ swinging at him while half-drunk with the same determination he noticed in her the first time their eyes locked. And she was still stunning to him. My word, she _was_ perfect.

He instantly sensed a new tone in her voice and saw a new flicker in her eyes as she giggled. It was predacious, like his. It was battling with her reason and conscience, so he quickly decided to nurse it. Vlad closed the space between them until he could feel individual strands of her coiled and singed hair tickle his nose. Their breathing had quickened as his right hand pursued her arm and shoulder, all the way up her collar bone to her neck, grasping it so that both now had a firm hold. She felt her own arms lock across his back in a tight embrace.

_Wait! Stop this! Can't you see what's happening? You are to gain control of him, not allow him to control you!_ she thought to herself. But those same words were overlapped with others that were shushing her fears and soothing her worries. He looked too good to pass up. His body was beckoning, his lips so inviting, his skin so alluring, his eyes just daring her to make the last move. Integra couldn't resist the challenge presented to her. She was never one to back down, only to the point when it became inappropriate._ But shush, dear. Those are negative thoughts, and they are to be ignored. Fear not. Nothing bad will come of this. Just fall into his arms and let him take care of you. There is nothing wrong with two injured souls bonding in the face of so much destruction. You need comfort, especially now, and he will willingly give you that. Just...fall..._

Integra had fought fruitlessly for the last will of her sanity as he entranced her with his touch and the drink won. She felt herself drowning in the poor judgment of her own making. All she selfishly wanted was him -his lips upon hers, his taste, his body. Everything. She craved him; ached for him. Her conscience had been muffled with a pillow until she could hear it no longer and left it for dead, no thanks to her id's passions now flaring up inside of her.

With one soft groan, Integra moved her hands up his back to rake her fingertips across his scalp as she pulled herself up to straddle him. It set Vlad's flesh aflame as his hands dropped to press her lower back to him until their stomachs touched. He moaned in pleasure as she pressed her entire body onto him, causing Vlad to lean back onto the wall and grin in triumph.

"It remains to hang in the balance. You will decide my fate," he grated out before plundering her lips with his.

.•*´¨`*•.

That was nine pages! I had to stop it somewhere. *Sigh* so much for the smaller updates.

What just happened? They were supposed to have a fight and then Integra was supposed to leave in a cloudy mist of hatred, if not stumbling here and there a bit. Characters, why you do this? Now look at what I have to do!

I know what did it. It was Aníron, Theme Of Aragorn & Arwen song I listened to. Damn you, Elvish tongue.

I know most of you are going to hate me b/c it took 21 chapters to get them to have their FIRST KISS…but so what? I make you work for it, don't I? *evil grin*

Uh oh. Why…why are you all staring at me with eyes like daggers? Wh-what's going on? *nervous laugh* C'mon guys, I'm just…y'know, I'm just having some fun here- OH GOD THEY'RE AFTER MEEE!

*runs away*


	22. Delicate Egos

**A/N:** Readers and reviewers, this is easily going to be several hundreds of thousands of words long, and we haven't even cracked 100,000. I might have to put this into two different volumes, like a part one and then a part two.

Why am I so excited?

I'm going to change the title now. I really think I've given any and all enough time. Yes, new beginnings!

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Delicate Egos

"All I'm saying is that we were extremely fortunate that Victor just 'appeared' and saved us all from death," Jusztina walked with Ana and Loredana in a hurried gait, "A little _too_ fortunate, for my tastes."

Loredana hushed both girls as they turned the last corner to The Regent's bedchamber, "Ladies are not to speak of such trifling matters. Let the men handle those. It is not within our realm to worry overmuch on things which men can handle."

Ana felt her hands tighten on the bouquet of flowers, "You think this is a 'trifling matter'? Something that a couple of men could easily fix over a meal? This act will have repercussions that _everyone_ will not expect. I can only hope that The Regent is well enough in his recovery to determine what will be next."

Loredana twirled an ash blonde curl in between her fingers, her aged eyes masking a scowl, "We can only hope. Now, _shush_," she knocked on the door they had walked to and waited patiently. A man's low grumble from inside allowed her entry.

She turned the knob and gently opened the door. Candles had been lit, and all three women could see Erzsébet leaning over her husband's bed, clutching his hand to her heart. Ana entered and placed the flowers in a vase, and Jusztina set the platter of food -a mixed assortment of cheeses, bread, and a gracious amount of wine- onto his nightstand. Loredana cleared her throat softly once her ladies filed silently back into formation behind her.

"My governess, Lady Erzsébet," Loredana started, "If there is nothing else you need, then we shall be heading to Integra and Seras's room."

The Regent animated and smiled, "Good morning, ladies." His body had few bruises to count for, and very little damage overall; fortunate, some would say.

Erzsébet kissed his forehead, "Are you feeling better?" She tried desperately to hold back the flood of tears awaiting a perfect chance to ruin the sweet moment.

He stroked her soft cheek, "You were the one who restricted me to bed-rest for two days. I feel fine, love, and I must return to my duties."

She eyed him for a moment and nodded, "I would very much like to have you return…"

He pulled the covers off of himself and sat up, scratching the fast-growing stubble on his chin, "…But?" he could tell an open-ended sentence when he heard one.

Erzsébet paused, swallowing hard and turning to the other women in the room, "My ladies, how are you this morning?"

"Well," Loredana answered for all three, "We were arriving with your breakfast and were wondering if you needed anything else…" The elder maid could sense what was about to happen and took the hint.

His bones cracked as he stood, rolling his head from side to side, when he suddenly had a massive attack of vertigo, "No, that will be all. Thank you. Please, leave us."

The ladies-in-waiting made their exit silently and left the two. Upon the closing of the massive chamber door, The Regent's manner softened as he caved and wobbled. Erzsébet caught his broad shoulders and sat him back down on the bed.

"Ill. That's what you are," she tisked and reached for the platter of food, watching her hands visibly tremble.

Her husband swatted them impatiently away, not noticing, "No, I must return to Walter. He has news on Lord George and Lord Victor. He has been investigating and tearing through their papers, desperately trying to find something that could link the Assassin and Lord George together."

"And so far?" Erzsébet challenged him with a questioning look.

His face fell, forming more aged wrinkles on his scruffy cheeks, "So far, nothing," his gaze intensified as it returned to her, "That is the reason why I _must_ be present. You cannot shackle me to the bed, woman. As Regent of Hungary, it is my duty to bring justice to Her during times of war. This was an act of war, it qualifies. Therefore, it stands to reason that I leave this room and question the House of Poděbrady. We cannot hold them under the tip of a sword for much longer without my presence asserted."

Erzsébet placed the tray down heavily onto the bed and traced his bruises and scratches with a finger, "You will leave this room when you have eaten your food and when I see three guards posted next to you at all times."

Her tone of voice was as tight as a girth to a saddle.

The Regent laughed softly and nodded, "Alright, alright. Peace, my love," he grasped her hands, "Now, what is it that is plaguing your mind? I can tell something is…amiss."

Erzsébet choked back a tearfully rueful smile, slowly stroking his broad palms and not daring to look into his face as she informed him, "It…it's Ladislaus, my love…"

.•*´¨`*•.

Seras tossed and turned in her sleep. The Assassin was grinning at her; his hand was outstretched with the candle in his palm. She was the only one in the room, watching it tip in his hand. She screamed and ran for him, but no matter how fast she sprinted the candle was faster. It dropped and exploded the barrel, causing her body to flail to the castle wall. She felt her head crack violently into a pillar and watched the stained glass window above them shatter into thousands of jagged pieces -a sound that rang in her ears like the piercing screams of what would soon be the foretelling chaos in her land.

"NO!" Seras's eyes snapped open as she swung a fist upward.

"Ack!"

She focused her eyes onto the person in front of her who was rubbing his red jaw. He smiled, nonetheless, and waved a hand.

"'Ello there, my lady," Pip sat on the edge of her bed with a bottle in his hand.

"Oh, dear! I just…you were…and then I…" she sounded horrified, shifting her eyes from her deployed hand to his jaw and blindly reached up to his chin, "Forgive me, please. I was having a terrible nightmare."

Pip shrugged the pain off but dipped slightly in to feel her touch as she examined the ding, "You pack a mighty fine swing there, kitten, but it was nothing I could not handle."

Her eyes softened and she smiled weakly at him, suddenly aware of how hideous she appeared. Yet, in all of her bandages and primitive splints, her blonde hair still sprung out like straw as thick as his working fingers. Even in the midst of the pain and mourning, Seras still looked beautiful to him.

"I look like Death warmed over," she struggled to sit up as her stiff arms and wrapped legs refused to bend.

Pip snickered at her comment, "A very beautiful incarnate of Death then; one that has entranced this fool."

Seras sat for a moment before gracelessly tipping forward to close the space between them for a hug, but instead found herself falling face-first into the bed covers with a painful and surprised grunt. Pip uprooted himself in a bought of laughter at her clumsiness that resounded obnoxiously throughout the large room. She nervously thrashed and struggled to sit up once more, consequently yelling at him.

"You are so boisterously loud! Quit laughing at me and help! Or leave, scoundrel!" she snarled at him, tearful.

Pip controlled himself adeptly and took hold of her shoulders, easily lifting her up and into a strong embrace, wrapping his arms gently around her, "Girl," he inhaled, "You could not be more perfect to me, disabled or not," his eyes trailed down her shirt as he held her there, "Though, it is adorable to watch you struggle and squirm."

Seras latched onto him for support and balance; she sighed. He smelled of leather and horse stall -that outdoor scent of a working man with a small whiff of mead, "I'm just content that you emerged from the wreckage relatively unharmed."

"Compared to you, I'm _golden_," Pip smirked, eyes squinting as his crooked smile elongated. That cheeky grin.

Damn him.

"Rah!" she grunted, "You drive me nearly to insanity! Half the time I want to be in your presence, and the other half I want to avoid you. If I'm not thinking about you, then I'm thinking about personally tying you up and choking you," her hands stiffly made their way up to grasp his thick neck. She squeezed ever so slightly, only proving that she really could not hurt him.

Pip laughed again, "Kitten, you are incapable of choking me. Your small hands barely wrap around my neck as it is. Your only use is with a bow and arrow apparently…or rummaging around the larder to make me a sandwich."

Seras's eyes darkened as she shoved off of him in disgust, "Goodbye, castle guard," she tried to turn her back to him.

His hands fell from her side, but his smug expression caused her to turn back around.

"I have some news about that title."

"What does that mean? Out with it," she demanded, futilely crossing her arms in an attempt to look formidable.

Pip traced his hand on her blankets, "Well, after The Regent woke up briefly from the trauma, he asked for me at once. I'd thought he was going to throw me in the dungeon the way I tackled him, but he took my hand and said to me 'Guard, for your courage and bravery, you have saved me from most certain death. I am in your debt.' The Regent asked what he could give to me in return for my act of valor, and one thing came to mind."

Seras's eyes widened, "Wait…you…?"

Pip nodded, "Oui, I asked to be knighted. He fervently agreed and had Walter snatch a ceremonial sword from the throne room. He knighted me -being active leader of Hungary in the absence of a king- that afternoon with his wife and a few of my castle guard friends as witnesses. I am now _Sir_ Pip."

Seras's mouth dropped, "But that means that you can enter in the tourney! You can fight for my hand in-" she paused, "…is…is that what you've wanted this whole time?"

Pip bashfully grinned, the slightest hint of a blush on his cheek, "Your large and chaste bosom heaves magnificently," he tried, but she only recoiled in disfavor of the comment. He tried again with less crass and more sincerity, "One is a disgrace of a man to let someone as fine as you slip through his fingers."

Seras scoffed this time, unsure if she should be flattered or nauseous. Either way, she suddenly found herself mirroring his grin. It had to be that crudely honest streak in him.

Now, all he had to do was win. And not die.

Simple.

.•*´¨`*•.

Vlad's lips were warm and inviting as he silenced Integra with another kiss, deepening the scarlet lust blossoming inside of her. He made slow, knowing circles with his hands on her back that moved lower and lower with each stroke. Integra's breath caught in her throat as one hand trailed lazily up her thigh, lifting her undergarments out of his way. Integra's mouth opened in a silent gasp, allowing his tongue passage into hers as he explored her. As their mouths worked against each other, tension between them began to build. Tension that was as desired as it was suffocating.

Vlad released Integra as she gasped for air, watching as she threw her head back to expose her long neck. Pulling her back to him, his lips easily found their way to kiss her collarbone. Her warm skin and fast-beating pulse were dancing across his tongue as he kissed her neck, lingering there for a moment.

_Powerrr_…it purred.

_Powerrr through the currency of life…Vlad…her lifeblood…ever so sweet…ever coursing through that nimble body…pleading to be-_

"Velaaad," she whispered, awakening him from his trance as she slipped her hips higher onto his waist.

Vlad shoved the voice to the back of his head when he found his mouth closing in on her throbbing jugular. His eyes widened in shock as he realized his ensuing actions. Vlad quickly closed his mouth and jerked his head away from the area, but it was difficult to control anything else when he felt Integra's hands explore his abs. She eagerly slid her own hands along the solid contours of Vlad's chest, her soft touch causing him to shudder as they ventured lower and lower. Vlad succumbed and locked lips with her once more, eager for her intoxicating taste to delight his senses again.

Integra felt Vlad tip her back to him as his embrace began to caress her body with heat that steadily rose in each passing second. A deep pressure inside of her increased until it nearly became unbearable as his delicious touches elicited a moan from her that vibrated their joined lips.

"Integra," he answered her with a ragged voice as he caught her in another open-mouthed kiss.

Integra's mind was a swirling vortex of entropy, but out of the whirlwind she managed to feel two things: wrong, and wrong. This was wrong.

_But it feels so g-_

Wrong! It was all wrong! Wrong! Not right! No, it had to stop. She had to stop. She was off to marry Lord Victor. What had overcome her senses? What on this green earth had _possessed_ her?

Vlad.

Her reason was bucked off once more as he gripped her waist with both of his hands. But what shocked her was when he suddenly ripped their kiss apart and gazed down at her with a troubled look.

Vlad blinked his eyes, trying to conceal the evident lust still held within them, "Integra, you must leave."

She felt her chest heaving for air and her thoughts a minute behind his, "Wha'?"

He took a hold of her shoulders and swallowed, "I…think I hear someone coming," he lied and watched her pause for a moment, then clumsily slide off of him, the bed, and wobble as her feet touched the floor.

_There. Isn't that what you desired all along? Now flee, before you succumb to your foolishness once more_, her Reason chided.

Both looked at one another for a moment, as if finally absorbing in what they had just done in the briefest of moments: the gross act of misconduct in which they had both played a part, the sins both had committed for which they would need to repent, and the consequences that would always follow with such debauchery…if anyone knew of it, that is.

Vlad smiled apologetically, already sensing the inevitable rain of rage that was about to flood to him in three, two, one…

Integra shamefully smoothed out her clothing and closed her eyes, "Wha waz I thinkin'? This waz wrong ta do." She retreated further away from him, attacked by an overwhelming avalanche of guilt and panic, and tried to make it to the door quickly, wiping her mouth free of his intoxicating taste.

Vlad's face did not change, but instead kept a quiet calm, "You wish to run away from your feelings for me? Be my guest. See where that leads you. Live in denial your whole life," he paused for effect, goading her with his last words, "_Try it_."

Integra's mouth opened in anger but she closed it with a snap, speaking through her teeth, "Thas where you and I differ. Your lust _blinds_ yu. It takes over control. Yu think yu c'n control mee? Therez one thing I c'n do that yu can't, an' thaz seperating mye feelin's when carryin' out orders. Your lust fer me will be yer undoin', mark mye words," she stomped out of the room and slammed the door to the barracks, but not before pausing to glance at Ladislaus tearfully.

Vlad soaked in every one of her words with alarming interest, taking note in how fervent her promise was. Her words cut into his smooth bravado deeper than she could imagine. Never had a woman been so hell-bent on ruining him in the way he saw it in her eyes. The line? He had crossed it. Not only had he crossed it, but he had returned, snapped it in twain, and set it aflame right in front of her face. He had manipulated her honor, sense of decency, and violated her trust. He knew he was better than to take advantage of her, of the fact that she was beyond inebriated, but he could _not_ resist her. And was it so wrong to reveal his cards to her? She had to know how he felt, or else he'd have been living a lie his entire life, if kept inside. Either way, something in the way that Integra walked out of the room told him that this would be the last time she would allow this mistake to happen.

"Quite the firebrand," he chuckled, trying to make light of the situation, but he instantly sensed something lurking in his mind.

It rubbed itself softly around the edges of his psyche, asking permission to enter. He pushed it further back, recognizing it as the voices he heard first in the village of Bagamér. They hissed at him in frustration as he rocked forward and placed his head in his hands.

_Vlad Dracula…You have been given a ch-_

"SILENCE!" he roared and slammed his fists on the cot. They ceased, obedient.

The thousands of needles in his leg and right arm returned with a powerful vengeance. He groaned in pain and settled back into the blankets, tense. His arm returned to its numb state and fell limply at his side once more. The blood from his leg that was wrapped had seeped almost entirely through his bandage. Courteous, he slid the mess out from underneath the blankets and to the floor, not wishing to stain the sheets.

Vlad froze for a moment when he heard the barrack's door open once more.

_Perhaps Integra returning to apologize?_ he thought for a moment and then laughed inwardly.

A most curious and striking maid entered, instead. She had ebony hair, braided to her waist, that flowed in a familiar way to someone he thought he had seen before. She walked straight into the room and closed the door abruptly. Her green dress looked familiar as well. She wouldn't be…

"Lady Integra! Lady Integra, where are you?" she shouted, cupping her hands as her voice rang hollow throughout the elongated room.

Placing her hands on her small waist, she grunted disapprovingly and made an effort to walk all the way to the other end of the room heels clacking the whole way. Exasperated, she returned to the front and nervously glanced around. Emerald eyes darted across the room, as if aware of someone's watchful eyes, and locked with Vlad's.

"Oh," she stammered, "You are…the one I met in the market," her voice was coated in disbelief.

"Yes," Vlad drawled slowly in recognition, "I _knew_ you looked familiar," he winced slightly, "Though I'm afraid I did not catch your name, last we spoke."

"Last we spoke was the first we spoke," she approached Ladislaus with a helpless manner and began to remove his bandages, "You were…you were one of the advisors to The Regent, no?" Vlad nodded. She regarded him with a doubtful look, but shrugged, "My name is Lady Jusztina. I am one of Integra's ladies-in-waiting."

Vlad's eyes sparkled with curiosity, "You are not claimed, hmm. Waiting for a proposal, then?"

Her cheeks blushed, "Well, yes, though I do not believe that is any of your concern. At any rate, have you seen Lady Integra? She is not in her room, and Lady Seras regarded me with the strangest grin when I asked her about Lady Integra's whereabouts."

Vlad refrained from showing too much knowledge, relaxing into the blankets once more, "She is not here, I can assure you. My powers of observation inform me that there is currently only one fair maiden in the room."

"_Peace_, good Sir," Jusztina sighed as she finished unwrapping, "Save yourself the embarrassment and not offer your honeyed words."

"Come now," Vlad pursued as he inched forward on his bed, "This beautiful songbird knew that she would sooner or later be noticed, if not by the gentry, then surely by the nobility."

Jusztina scoffed dryly, "A dying songbird at that, her flashy tail-feathers bent and burning and her wings stripped to bone, all aspirations and achievements stripped away as well. Her only chance of redemption for herself and her family title being marriage to a nobleman, she is forced to decide which to sacrifice: her selfish happiness or her family's lineage continuing. The argument is quite one-sided, so the songbird travels to her regent in the hopes of arranging a marriage through the tourney."

"Ah," Vlad sighed, piecing the puzzle together and much fascinated by this lovely creature, "But the game is begun."

"And may the best contender win," she added heartily with a spiteful laugh, not truly understanding why she was sharing private matters with him.

Vlad elevated his head toward her, intrigued, "Then you and I have much in common in origin, in particular being stripped to bone and all aspirations and achievements stripped away as well."

The sentence rang hollow for a moment, awaiting a confirmation on her part that would resonate in both of their beings, a cause for them to look at one another in a new light.

The lady-in-waiting could not refrain from answering him. "I know." And with that response came a flood of emotion that resounded of understanding. A connection.

"Tell me," he turned his body slowly to face her completely, "Do you find solace and comfort in others like yourself, others who understand your pain?"

Jusztina inhaled sharply and tossed Ladislaus's old wrappings behind and reached into a drawer for fresh ones. She was still reluctant, he could sense, "Please, I have no need for your sugar-coated words," her worried frown returned, "It looks as though I'll have to call in a search," she reminded herself of the task at hand.

"Lady Jusztina," Vlad rolled her name off his tongue in a way that caused her to turn around and face him again, focusing her attention on his trimmed and bare body, "I would regret not to ask you to spend some time with me…perhaps after this leg heals?"

Jusztina smiled politely, though he could see her anticipation bubbling just underneath her penetrable surface, "I…" she cleared her throat, "I will have to think about it," she turned around to wrap Ladialsus's head, shameful that her eyes had wandered down his figure -an act she knew he had noticed.

Vlad's lips parted as they hooked upward into a leer. He had finally reached her.

If Integra wished to torment him, then two could play at this game.

He was just about to plot a most emotionally abusive scheme when Jusztina interrupted his tainted thought process.

"What were you doing in the market that day, if I may ask?"

Vlad brushed her question off, hastily answering it, "I was in the tavern with a…friend…sharing an afternoon off." He remembered the fool who had slipped and spilled his mead all over Vlad's new garments. Fortunately, the owner had hurried the drunkard away.

Vlad paused, "The _owner_! Of course!" he leaped from the bed, leg suddenly gaining a momentous amount of strength.

Jusztina gasped in shock, "Th-that was hemlock. You were never supposed to walk again."

Vlad almost toppled over, mind more enthusiastic than muscle, but his hand reflexively caught the bedpost. Something hard and long fell to the floor as well, as he jostled the frame of the bed, and with a terrible 'crack'. He winced, but instantly recognized its shape.

A cane had been leaning off to the side, and he had failed to notice its presence, or who had given him the gift.

Bending over and picking it up, Vlad measured that it was for his height. He smiled and hobbled off, ignoring Jusztina's confused queries, each next step surer and stronger than the last.

.•*´¨`*•.

No one could have predicted that the outcome of a planned tourney would have been the Hunyadi Castle housing traitors in its midst. True, some people were suspicious of The Regent's plans and how he could possibly unite a kingdom in shambles that was so desperately trying to keep astride against the ever-growing glare of Olympic proportions of the Ottoman Empire. Others were happily compliant with gathering under one banner to face the growing threat of Ottoman rule. The problem wasn't in recognizing that there was a problem anymore. That had been explosively true with the assassinations of some of Hungary's gathering and celebrating nobles. The issue at hand was trying to figure out whom, not what.

Times now call for action, not gatherings.

The target of Hungary's troubles was no longer simply a spreading empire to the southeast; it was an infection from within -a blight that would invite chaos in its wake. Nevertheless, what is worse for a kingdom is not chaos itself, but its byproduct: Anarchy.

Can The Regent cling to his power long enough to save and restore the true and rightful king to the Hungarian throne in the hopes of uniting the kingdom through this act, or will the Ottoman Empire steamroll over the last barricade of Christendom in the south, The Byzantine Empire, which so fragilely protects mainland Europe?

Stay tuned, as this medieval journey continues!

^^ Well, I flipped that scene on its head! Sorry, guys. Can't have Integra and Vlad falling for one another over some bottles of mead, delicate egos, and a fortuitous moment. That would be tooooo easy for Vlad.

You didn't think I was just going to throw some random chick at you with that market scene way back, didja?

Vlad just cock-blocked himself. Daaaayyyyuuummm impressive.

(Chapter subject to change)...I seriously write this only for insurance so that if I do need to change something I can.


	23. Seeking the Truth

**A/N:** A true thank you to everyone who has been following or just joined us in the story. It's a shameful confidence boost to see the spike in views and to earn some reviews. I look forward to continuing the story. Enjoy this next chapter.

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Seeking the Truth

Lord Anderson traced the soft metal touch of his thick daggers. It was a soothing act to calm the heightened sensitivity of his nerves. Grinning, he remembered the night he had blessed them with holy water provided for him by the church itself. He was currently pacing methodically in the dimly lit hallway, slowly weaving back and forth as he followed the decadently weaved and stitched lines of the custom rugs on the castle floor. A part of him was elated that the tourney was set on eternal pause, but another piece lamented all the hard work he had put into cleaning the castle up for show, accommodating designated space for the influx of guests, and gathering the necessary food, now all in vain. He shook his head but grinned in spite of the circumstances that he faced currently. His country was in dire need of a hero, someone to save Her from annihilation, someone to reach for Her as She near slipped off the precipice to Oblivion. Lord Anderson would gladly sign himself up to be savior of Christian Europe, God willing.

What appalled him now was that he had to save Hungary from herself. It was not the Ottomans threatening them from within. It was a traitor. Traitors deserve the ninth circle of Hell.

He paused, feeling a sliver of guilt creep up his conscience, when The Regent fiercely turned the corner.

Donning his full gown attire, full-sleeved shirt with puffed cuffs, tights, feathered cape, polished celebratory boots -though this was no time for celebrating- and a hard scowl, the lord and regent nodded abruptly to Lord Anderson, not pausing for his advisor to catch up.

"My lord and Regent," Anderson bowed, noting that any delay would take that much longer to jog back up to him, and that this was hardly a time for formalities.

"Lord Alexander Anderson," The Regent passed him.

"As your advisor, I would not suggest walking into this with a…" Anderson trailed off when his better fixed his icy glare onto him, "…certain abrasiveness you carry today."

"You think my 'abrasiveness' ungrounded?" The Regent proceeded to jog down the steps lower into the castle, approaching the dungeon.

"No, my lord. You have every right to keep it in such a concentration."

The Regent slowed down, "…and as my trusted friend?"

Anderson inhaled sharply as they turned the final corner and opened the wide-swinging double doors to the rank underground jail. The foul stench assaulted Anderson's senses, though he easily brushed it off. Anyone detained in here was deserving of breathing in the noxious smell.

"As your trusted friend, I say right on spot," Anderson parted his hands as the guards posted outside a specific cell subsequently parted out of their way.

"My lords! We've kept them here, feedin' them water and a meal to keep 'em from bellying up," a guard notified.

The Regent peered in, eyes frantic to see the man who had near murdered his son, "Lord George of Kunštát and Poděbrady, show yourself!"

The darkened cell had no rays of sunshine to illuminate what or who was within. A hell within the bowels of the fortress of rock wall, it offered cold stone floor, bars, and the bones of dead cellmates previously occupying it. But within there was a rustling noise; a very abrupt rustling and several coughs to follow.

"Y-you," the raspy voice wheezed, "How dare you treat a noble of faith and friend with such hostility."

"Explain yourself and I might accommodate," The Regent's voice echoed throughout the dungeon.

A man of smaller stature, balding head, and rotund belly, poked his head out from the darkest shadows. He began to crawl forward, shirt and pants clearly torn, bruises on most surfaces, and still bleeding gashes on his forearm and cheek. His next to bare head strained forward as his screaming arms protested in anguish at the exertion of trying to support his weight. He tried to kneel, instead.

Another, stronger hand appeared through the shadows of the cell and hoisted the old man up with a jerk motion.

"Father, do not waste your energy. The Regent is beyond reason," Victor abandoned the cloak of darkness and took his stand in front of both glaring men.

Lord George huffed for a moment and steadied himself, "I suppose you're going to tell us that you will keep us here indefinitely, without sentence or a trial, by imposing Devine Right."

"Nay, I do not have it. I am no king. I am Regent, and by all that you hold dear and the power bestowed onto me, you will answer for the crimes you have committed. It is not just my son over whom you will burden, but all the nobles you have murdered."

"I did no such act!" Lord George roared.

"That's a lovely lie. Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep better at night? Is that what you tell yourself to justify why you hired Assassins to murder The Regent, his son, and his nobles?" Anderson stepped forward, nose almost touching the bars.

"My caravan had just arrived when the explosion occurred," Lord George assured, "You may ask them!"

"How _convenient_, your excuse and foreseen exculpation is on your council or you payroll," Anderson scoffed, clearly disgusted, "If you were a man of God, you would stop dancing around our questions and just bother to tell us why. The Regent has heard of the Ottomans courting you, nay, _seducing_ you to their side. Did it finally pay off? I notice your territory is falling into civil war."

Lord George's face began to redden, the veins coursing throughout his thick neck now bulging, "If you think that I would blithely sit atop a throne and watch as my world burns, then you could not be leading a more false life. I have tried appeasing both sides, and both sides have refused to come to an agreement," he then magnified his crazed glare to The Regent specifically, "I had left out of respect to you, János. I left because I knew what you were trying to accomplish. I might be one of the few who actually can read your actions. I knew you were going to try to unite the banners, and I knew I had to be there for it to succeed."

"Touching words with your life in the grasp of my hands," The Regent shrugged his words off like the incarnate of indifference, "Because of you, my son Ladislaus does not wake. Because of you, nobles have been killed. Because of you, the kingdom under my protection is now in shambles, torn apart, laid waste, and stripped of safety as panic pursues the streets."

"Then why don't you stop wasting your time here and find the man responsible for this massacre?" Victor cut in. He did not want this mountain of misplaced anger to fall onto his father's innocent shoulders. If there was going to be false blame, then it would be placed on both of their shoulders.

"And you…perhaps you had nothing to do with it. After all, you saved both of my daughters, my manservant, and countless nobles' lives," The Regent paused, thinking, "Say, boy, if you tell us why your father contracted an Assassin to my family, I might consider in letting you go."

Victor inhaled to violently spit at the man when Anderson interrupted again.

"Think on it, boy. You could return home with your honor and dignity. You would gain back your life, the noble houses would still recognize yours, and your whole lineage would remain unmarked, untarnished, unsullied..."

Victor hesitated, "I…"

"You what?" Anderson yanked ever so softly with an understanding tone. If this man was threatening Christendom, then he would take the Serpent's form for the greater good with his sweetened words.

Eyes misting, Victor turned to his father apologetically, "_I_ did it."

.•*´¨`*•.

Vlad stood confidently in front of the tavern and sighed, tightening his grip on the cane. The market had proven to be as bustling with energy as it always was, the world still determined to continue on even in times of national peril. This thought strangely comforted Vlad as he busted through the door, nearly breaking off its hinges and the squeaking handle.

Near noon, the place was all but empty. There were a few stragglers just beginning to wake up on the floor, a few regulars nursing their latest picked poison, a few bar stool urchins who never really leave, and a few travelers in town. It was always too easy to spot those. While Vlad's eyes adjusted to the dim room, the old Turkish owner cautiously approached.

"May I help you, land-strider?"

Vlad turned to the man, raising an eyebrow knowingly, "I think you know why I am here, Ottoman."

The old man nervously shifted his eyes around the room and stuttered, "Uh…I…could we?" he motioned to a separate room that began where the bar ended. Vlad narrowed his eyes in suspicion, only now realizing that his weapon of choice was a cane and that he had not brought his sword or armor. In rejecting his offer and journeying back to the castle to fetch a weapon, Vlad reasoned, the owner might try to escape in his absence.

"Fine."

The two men made their way across the room at an excruciatingly slow pace for suspense to handle. The floorboards creaked loudly as Vlad neared the door, watching the owner open it and wave him inside. Closing it with a slam, the owner whirled around and put his fits up.

"Alright! Who are you, and what do you want from me?! I've already paid my debts, loan shark! Don't think I cannot best you! What I lack in height I generously make up for in strength!"

Amused, Vlad squared his shoulders with the man, encircling him like prey, "And what, exactly, would you hope to gain from assaulting one of The Regent's advisors?"

"I don't believe you," the owner quickly countered, "Where is your proper attire, hmm? Left it along with your clothes in the straw where you spent the night, bumming off of some poor family?" he surmised prematurely, turning with Vlad.

"_No_," Vlad stated with such finality and disgusted reprobation that the owner blinked in confusion, "Disclosed, I am _Lord Vlad III Dracula_, of House _Drăculești_, birthplace Sighișoara, Transylvania, Kingdom of Hungary. My father was Lord Vlad II Dracul. You may have heard of him. Do you remember now, or do words have no affect on your thick head?"

The owner's brown eyes grew wide with a mixture of horror and recognition, as his fists dropped and he fell to his knees, "M-my lord…we thought you had perished…" he shuffled to Vlad's feet and kissed his boot, "You are _alive_."

Vlad tiredly shook free of his grasp and helped the man back up, only to suddenly find a stave pressed uncomfortably against his back. The old man, with precision, then hooked his arm around into a choke hold, just barely giving Vlad enough passage through his throat to breathe.

"You really thought that I cared if you lived or died?" the owner hissed and jutted the stave further up Vlad's back while kicking his injured right leg, "I left that life long ago. I am no soldier of the Ottoman rank. I came to Hungary looking for peace of mind. I care not for Ottomans here, your lordship."

Reeling in pain as he wobbled to gain balance, Vlad still managed to chuckle, "You think I am a spy? How could I have befriended The Regent and somehow been able to rise up the ranks through such a transparent lie? Have you no eye for conscience?"

The elder reconsidered for a moment, "…so you are a convert, like me?" his voice hinted his belief slowly increasing.

"No, my father initiated me into the Order of the Dragon as a babe. I have sworn loyalty to protecting Christendom. I never converted because I was _already _Christian, and I never stopped being Christian," Vlad's tone had morphed from acerbically unpleasant to blazingly fervid.

"I…" the elder lowered his weapon and released the hold he had, "…see." He took a few giant steps back, in case the man before him chose to charge forward and deck the owner. He concealed the weapon back into the folds of his cloak. Well, at least the boy passed his test. He really was who he claimed to be, and my had it been years.

Vlad soaked in his surroundings for the first time, noticing the nice furniture around the office. How deceptive it looked, "And to think that one so ardent in his belief of his newfound religion could own a _tavern_."

"I do what I must to survive, my lord," the owner lashed back, defensive, as he made his way to the desk and sat down with a rickety grunt.

"Hmm," Vlad approached the desk and sat down as well, this one with a limp, "Serving people who live in squalor, doing little to better their stations, who sing and carouse late into the night in their rotten hovels until they fall over themselves and are awakened by the morn's disgusted constabulary. Great fun, yes."

"It is no worse than your duty, my lord," the owner chuckled, this time grinning at the young man sitting across from him. How naïve the boy _still _was after all these years.

"Which is?"

"To serve those same people," he shook his head, disappointed, "Has my tutelage been all for naught, or have you remembered anything within that yawning chasm between your ears?"

Vlad smiled wryly. "Your tutoring _did _lead to yawning. It is good to see a familiar face, old friend. I am glad you recognized me."

"Ah, yes, well," he sighed, "It took longer than I would hope," the elder's body rested comfortably, his eyes now alight with reflection, "Long years have passed. You did not have the cares you carry now."

"You deceive yourself, Costel. I have not a care in the world," Vlad tilted his head back, keeping the smile plastered to his face.

"Who is she?"

Vlad blinked, "What?"

Costel chuckled softly, "I see the fire of rejection in your eyes, boy. There's no mistaking it."

Vlad evaded the question, masking the twisted knot of anger his face was about to reveal, "I have come on important business, tutor. It would behoove you to answer me honestly."

"Indeed, _very_ important," Costel's chuckle turned into raucous laughter, "So important that you forgot your clothes!"

"Listen to me, you coward, there is a traitor among us and I aim to find him. He nearly took Lord Ladislaus's life, my life, but has managed to kill dozens of others," Vlad relaxed in his seat, taking in a breath and composing his collected calm once more, "Taverns are indispensable for gossip and for shifty-eyed people with tilted morals. Have you heard anything that would merit suspicion?"

Costel rubbed the base of his chin, a finger weaving in and out of his long white beard, "You cannot blame me anymore than you could blame yourself, my lord. I ran away for freedom, shedding the blanket of tyranny in which I had permitted myself to be cloaked, as did _you_. If that is your definition of cowardice, then we both chose the lives of cowards."

"There you go, twisting words at your fancy and whim. You always did it so well," Vlad remarked, sitting back in his seat and shaking his head.

"You did learn from the best," Costel reminded him, absentmindedly spinning an empty ink pot on the table, "And speaking of suspicious persons...there might be one instance of interest to you..."

"Well?"

"You understand that I am an older man now, and that my observation and what I perceived might not have been the reality?" Costel faltered for a moment, as if to make the ground rules clear so no one would come knocking and accuse him of anything later.

Vlad displayed the best insincere smile, "The wrinkles on your face can _surely_ attest for that."

Ignoring one of his more ruder comments, Costel continued, "I can't say I remember what night it was, but a couple of men did take seat in this tavern. I know the look of a suspicious lay-about when I see one. And there were three, I think. Or was it four? This one time I remember-"

Vlad fidgeted with his cuffs, too impatient for a long-winded story, "Yes, regale me with your tales of wisdom and morality, for I do declare my schedule free of anything else today."

"Sarcasm," Costel spat, "The wisest of us say it is the refuge of a shallow mind," he sighed, "But I will continue. A handful of men walked through the doors of my tavern and sat at a table for nigh three hours before parting, and all of them without ordering one drink. They may as well have been loitering!"

Vlad latched on, leaning in closer, "When was this?"

"Before you and Lord Ladislaus had left...I think? Or was it while you were away..."

"What manner of men were they?" Vlad pressed.

"Well, two were certainly not travelers. They looked to be nobles who had just arrived at the castle."

Vlad's chest deflated, his body sinking back into the cushion of the seat, "There were _dozens_ of nobles who had arrived by then."

"My child, do not be so crestfallen," Costel almost held out his hand for the lad, but quickly retracted it, "There is something else that might help. You see, one of the barkeep nearly spilled a mug of ale onto a peculiar book that one of them was cradling in his arms. By the way that he chastised my man for nearly ruining the book, you'd have thought that the book was the only thing keeping him alive."

Vlad crossed his arms, befuddled for a moment, "A book? Why would a book be so important?"

Costel's head jerked backward as he coughed in disgust.

"Besides the fact that it is a scholar's lifeline to understanding the Truth of knowledge in this world," Vlad recited with colorful, sarcastic taste.

"They were fussing over it for most of the time, and when I heard that you and Lord Ladislaus had been poisoned by arrows dipped in Hemlock, I pieced two and two together," Costel visibly shuddered, bringing his hand to his face as he saw Vlad's animate instantly.

"What? What are you talking about? Piece what together?"

"The book...it looked to be a book specifically on poisons, but it was folded to a page that had clearly been looked over many a time. The title of it was the information on hemlock, including any working antidotes..."

Vlad's breathing shallowed. Experiencing a visceral reaction, his body retracted inward, as if the very name 'hemlock' caused his healing self to tremble at the poison he knew was still coursing through his veins...even if it was diluted to nothing. "That's...improbable."

Costel noticed Vlad's reaction and smiled apologetically, "I know those memories are still a fresh wound to mind and body alike, but don't you believe that there are books in the library of the castle about hemlock? There may be more than one, and someone could have easily obtained one."

"There is only one man I know of who is just as possessive of his books and their whereabouts as you describe, and that is the castle apothecary," Vlad stood up, propping his cane to his right side and made haste for the door, "Thank you, Costel. We will be in touch."

.•*´¨`*•.

Lord George grabbed his son by the collar and smacked him up against the rock wall of the cell, "You did not. Stop this! Don't do this! You are not the perpetrator, instigator, or a murderer! I know you, my son. Do not lie!"

Victor shoved his father off and turned hastily towards Anderson, "Why do you think I was able to sneak through undetected? Why do you think I was able to watch over everything that happened, conducting it behind the scenes while also being present for my handy work at the end? I hired them! All of them!"

The Regent slammed his fits on the iron bars, feeling them reverberate throughout his limbs, "How?!"

Victor began to choke on his words, vision beginning to blur, "My lord has no shortage of enemies. It was easy for them to convince me. They already knew the road to the Hunyadi Castle," Victor wiped his eyes, "From the way they spoke, I could tell they had a score to settle with you."

The Regent's breathing turned ragged, trying to control the urge to open the cell and strangle the man right there, "Why? You were to marry my daughter! Why would you want her killed, you monster?!"

The young man closed his eyes, already seeing the headman's axe in his future. If he had to leave this world branded a traitor, then so be it. He wasn't going to let his father's life be taken from this world –not when he was working so hard to fight off people who wished to brandish him more than a traitor. His father had a province to save, and what did Victor have? He had a father whose life was currently more important than his. No, Victor would take the fall instead. It was for the better. Both of them were not going to get out alive, so if it had to be anyone it was to be his father.

"WHY?"

"Because they promised to place me on the throne. Because I would rise up and become King of Hungary. The prince would be easy to dispose of, as would be his crazed uncle. They were next."

Anderson forcibly clenched his fists from reaching within his cloak to his custom-made and personally blessed daggers. He instead felt their metallic outline through the fabric of his clothing. Again, it was an act to soothe his unraveling nerves. How could someone so close to the Hunyadi family come within a second's length of murdering everyone in his way? How could a _boy_ premeditate on such an act of hellacious proportions?

"How could I believe that a single person was the reason my kingdom nearly collapsed? Victor alone could not possibly accomplish this," The Regent questioned Anderson to the side.

"One could not. He had help," Anderson agreed, "I'm sure there was someone, or perhaps some people, other than the Assassins who had planted this idea in his mind."

"How can I be expected to fight an opponent twice as strong when the people of this kingdom try to murder their betters? Morale is so low, the Ottomans may as well take us where we stand, for the Kingdom of Hungary stands on rocky ground! To Her left and right, the conflicted states, some clearly housing traitors in their midst; behind Her, the Ottoman Empire frothing at the mouth; in front, the precipice of Oblivion," The Regent lamented, raising a hand to his forehead to suppress his fast-growing migraine.

A guard skidded to a halt from racing down the stairs, nearly falling into Anderson's arms, "M-my lords!" he huffed and puffed for air. All four lords turned to him, noting the clutched note in his whitened knuckles and his face wild in a panic, "The Ottomans! They have taken Constantinople! They turn northwest for their next victory!"

"_No..._" The Regent only managed a whisper, "Byzantium has truly fallen, then. They threaten mainland Europe, now," he closed his eyes for a moment to pray. Then, turning to Lord Anderson, he stated, "Let us replenish the ranks, shall we?"

"A mandate?" Anderson's eyes widened. His conversation almost a year ago with his lordship had not strayed far from his mind. Anderson remembered that as the night Vlad burst into his perfectly planned world, throwing it and caution to the wind. It turns out that fate might have it Lord Anderson's way.

"I will pass a mandate declaring any boy over the age of fourteen to enlist," The Regent turned swiftly and left Lord George and Victor shouting for him, "I will have soldiers. I care not from what background they come, as long as they swear fealty to me and take up an oath to fight for Christendom. I will have an army, and I will have it in a three weeks, are we clear?"

Anderson nodded, "Immediately, my lord. I shall oversee it personally."

"I want everyone to know of the Ottomans' advance. I want every man, woman, and child to know and understand what exactly is coming after us. Send it through messengers, couriers, ravens, arrows, I don't care. Spread and transmit it throughout the churches if you have to. _I want everyone to remember why they need the kingdom to unite now_!"

.•*´¨`*•.

And here comes the Ottoman Empire!

~NOTICE: Major clean up in earlier chapters. I tried to fix all of the times I called Ladislaus a 'prince' (he's just a nobleman) and the regent 'king' (he is also a nobleman). It wasn't one of my better moments, but hopefully for anyone new reading this there is less confusion now. The next chapter will be posted soon, I think~

So, is everyone ready for some more Radu, possibly? Hehe

Viiiiicctooor, you're going to get beheaded if you keep that uuuuuup! And the only person who can save you now is the one person who hates youuuuuuu.


	24. Convergence

**A/N: **Alllrighty then. After countless hours of trying to figure out how to recreate these chapters, I just stopped freaking out about it and began writing. The result? I finished this chapter in 5 hours. It obviously won't be word-for-word, but as I was straining to remember anything I'd forgotten, new ideas popped into my head. Better ideas.

So, off we go then. To the text! (And it's a bit longer than usual. Blame my muse, the OST of any movie…most currently, The Hobbit).

I hope some of you are pleasantly surprised by the ending.

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Convergence

Three long weeks had passed; three _excruciatingly_ long weeks. No one had ever experienced an entire kingdom on such high alert before. Threat alone would cause any commander to increase the amount of his men on patrol, but since there had been actual sightings of the Ottoman Army entrenched at Constantinople, now renamed Istanbul under Muslim rule, it had cost commanding officers to the weary peasantry all their strength not to lose sanity. It was no longer a distant nightmare separated from reality by a small straight in between the Black Sea and the Aegean Sea. The fear of Muslim rule had now become true actuality. All there had to be done now was gain enough strength in number and wait for the first move.

What was truly intolerable were the long nights of peace and quiet, absent of any wind, where Vlad could hear a pin drop or a mouse scratch its tail as he stayed in the barracks, refusing to sleep in his own private quarters. No one truly wanted to face death, it seemed, but Vlad. To this warrior, waiting on the edge of a war he could neither face yet nor hasten was even worse. He had heard countless times from his superiors in Edirne that it was 'the calm before the storm; the deep breath before the plunge', and that was what made it insufferable: the anticipation. Anticipation always led to fear.

Fear, Vlad knew, was only a construction of the mind's thoughts of doubt. Moreover, doubt and speculation were always the enemy of calm. Perhaps this was why Vlad abandoned his quest for the truth of what had happened that fateful evening of the explosion. Perhaps that was what kept him returning to Zargo's room, only to stop himself from pounding on the door and confronting the man. Perhaps what the people needed was to believe that Lord George and Lord Victor were traitors to their banner and to the kingdom, instead of a more sinister belief that the idea arose from within the nobility of Hungary itself. Perhaps the people needed to believe a lie in order to unite themselves against a common truth -the truth being the advancement of the Ottoman Army.

Who was Vlad to tip the fragile balance of what remained of the tranquility in the region? Who was he to press matters that would break the unity of an already weaker country supported by delicate alliances? If it was best for the kingdom to continue hating two innocent men, especially in this time of national peril, then who was Vlad to gainsay what really happened?

To Vlad's surprise, he had to remind himself constantly that the safety of Christianity was his prime directive; he was an initiate of the Order of the Dragon.

.•*´¨`*•.

Fear was rife within the towns and villages, even within the castle walls, deep inside the fortification and stronghold, and as the long nights would continue, that fear would lead to panic. Where panic arises, nothing good follows.

"BACK! BACK, you inbred idiots, or I'll shout the order to cut you down!" Pip shouted atop his mount and flashed his torch at the enraged mob. The night had come again, and terror on the streets wracked the town anew. Soft rain droplets splashed down the cobble pathways, but a biting breeze punctuated the tension among guard and rioter alike.

Mounted guards followed Pip in formation with their swords drawn at the crowd, continuing to advance as the people began to scatter and retreat. Doors were slammed along the apartments as men made their escape, hoping not to be recognized and caught, or chased down and thrown in the town jail for the night.

One particularly angry man charged a guard. The horse reared up while the guard drew his sword and came down on his throat, cleanly slicing through his neck and protruding out the other end as red cascaded down. What few angry men that still counted as the mob screamed and fled down the streets in a flurry, frightened by the fatal turn of events.

Pip cantered his mount, chasing them down until the last of the rioters had scattered in every which direction.

"Sir," one guard said as he pulled up, "Shall we patrol the streets for the rest of the night?"

Pip nodded, "Oui, you and your men rake the streets for any other rioters. Chase them down, but do not kill them unless they actively seek you. Understood?"

"Yessir!" he paused as Pip turned his mount around, "Might I ask where you are headed?"

"The castle. I must report this to The Regent," Pip answered and galloped off.

.•*´¨`*•.

Lord Anderson walked impatiently alongside Walter. Both men regarded the other with contempt, in some form. Though the manservant was exceedingly more tactful than the advisor, Anderson would never miss an opportunity to remind Walter of his rank. Tonight, they were answering a summons to what was fondly called the 'map room'. Quite like its use, it was where The Regent had collected maps of all shapes and sizes, most showing the territories of the Kingdom of Hungary, but many others were of the Ottoman Empire or Hungary's neighbors to the north, east, and west. If there was any doubt of The Regent's whereabouts, one could usually find him bent over the master table in the center of the room, thumbing the tiny scaled models of allies in blue and enemies in red.

"I understand that you would wish to address the Ottoman incursions by meeting them head-on, but perhaps with the right amount of men we will not have to fight battle after battle," Walter gently reasoned, opening another door for his better.

Anderson snorted in derision, "As I have stated before, we will have enough men. I have gathered enough for The Regent's army in three weeks, as he wished. It cost all of my messengers two horses and nearly their lives, but along the roads they were able to ask for assistance from as far east as Lithuania, as far west as the Kingdom of Austria, and as north as the Teutonic Knights."

The corridor narrowed as both men reached their destination, draperies hanging raggedly from their posts and carpets unkempt, dust bunnies running rampant at the motion of a stir of two men walking. It had been some while since Walter had had the time to clean anything, but when Hungary was the last remaining bulwark now facing an army that outnumbered them easily three to one, preparation for the war to come took precedence over sanitation.

"Your eagerness to quell Islam out on the battlefield may be the death of the men you order," Walter tried to relax his stiffened body.

"Manservant, before I remind you of your place in this war-"

"Is there _any_ conversation I can have with you that would _not_ include your incessant nagging of my rank as manservant?" Walter asked as honestly as he could.

A cold shoulder as a response was enough. "No."

Walter sighed; God did have a flair for the ironical when deciding that Lord Anderson should be the tactful advisor and Walter the lowly, bumbling servant.

"Let me advise you to hold any feelings and sentiments you may have to yourself. We will succeed, through God's will. Your pessimism overshadows your faith. Do not let your faith waver in these troubling times. United, we will be a force to be reckoned with," Anderson's adamant voice drowned out as he opened the last door impatiently. Walter paused, motioning for Anderson to lead the way into the map room.

The Regent, Lady Erzsébet, little Matthias, Lord Ulrich, Baron of Eyczing, and Lord Ulrich, Princely Count of Celje, and Vlad were all waiting, each bent over the myriad maps sprawled and spilling over the tables.

Looking up, The Regent gathered them to the middle of the room where the largest map was placed atop the large master table and waited until each man had encircled the area.

"I want to inform all of you that more men answered my call than I could have hoped for," The Regent stated with pride, "Lord Anderson has gone above and beyond to inform anyone who is not our enemy about what is occurring in the south. Unfortunately, there are two problems at work: one is the mission of saving Prince Ladislaus from his deranged relative, and the other is remaining on the battlefront to stop the Ottomans from advancing any closer into the mainland."

"It is my hope that we will return quickly with the Prince," Lord Ulrich, Princely Count of Celje stated, "The sooner we place Prince Ladislaus on the throne, the sooner we unite the kingdom."

"The Ottomans cannot cross the Danube," Vlad changed the subject, noting that the only benign expression as he spoke belonged to Matthias, "That river must be protected like the crown jewels."

Lord Ulrich of Celje turned sharply to Vlad, "Pardon, but I had thought going over the rescue mission to save our future king was more important than an army."

"That 'army' just took Constantinople by storm from the Byzantines," Vlad fired back, "There is no one standing in the way but us now."

"Agreed," The Regent focused their attention back to the map, pointing to Wallachia on the map, "Which is why I've sent more than a third to protect Wallachia's borders. Vladislav II should be able to hold his own from there."

Anderson placed his hand down, tracing from Hungary to Austria, "And what of the men who will join Lord Ulrich, Baron of Eyczing, and Lord Ulrich, Princely Count of Celje, on their journey to free the Prince?"

The Regent sighed, lowering himself into a seat, "They have their own forces."

"Yes," Anderson pressed, "But that does not change the fact that I have couriers banging on my doors at all hours of the day asking for more men to help retrieve Prince Ladislaus."

"We do need more men, my lord," Lord Ulrich of Celje pressed, "I can only bring as many men as I have."

"Yes, however, Lord Ulrich, Baron of Eyczing, had combined his forces with yours, and that amounts to more men than you could possibly need." The Regent's tone sounded final. "I am already outnumbered. I cannot spare you more of my men."

"Perhaps if-"

Matthias stepped in front of his father, "Can't you tell that we're not giving up more men where they're not needed?"

The Regent grabbed his son from the waist and pulled Matthias back to plop the boy onto his lap, chuckling as his son giggled.

"Listen to the child. We cannot risk sending more men west," Vlad leaned over the table for emphasis, "If not everyone, then territories south of Austria and Poland _must_ focus on the Ottomans. If we turn a blind eye to the turmoil happening now, down here, and send men west to safety, the Ottomans will trample us on their way to conquering all of Europe into a Dar al-Islam."

"A what?" Lady Erzsébet asked, previously forgotten that she was present.

Lord Ulrich of Celje felt his armor rattle in anger, "Look here, boy, sending my men west is not to 'safety'. My men are risking their lives for a cause as noble as yours."

Vlad turned to Lady Erzsébet, though a wave of nausea hit him as their eyes connected, "It...it has multiple meanings, my lady, from an area under the rule of Islam to the more literal meaning of 'the home of Islam'. They will convert or kill anyone in their path to create a world of only one divine religion. Their religion."

"Look at me, _traitor_!" Lord Ulrich of Celje slammed his gauntlet-fist onto the table, "How dare you ignore me."

Vlad met the Princely Count's glare with imperturbable composure, "I didn't realize that lords were privy to idle, immature name-calling. There is no honor among childish games."

"Defending one's honor is a privilege reserved for a man who has some! Now, I am telling you that we need the Prince to unite the Kingdom of Hungary against the enemy, but in order for that to happen I must have more able bodies!"

Vlad seethed as he felt his stance tighten, "And I'm telling you that if we spare more men for you, by the time you save the Prince there won't _be_ a kingdom left to _protect_! It will have been demolished!"

"Gentlemen," The Regent reined them back, "That's enough. Go at each other's throats on the field or in the arena, but not in my map room," his voiced wavered angrily for a moment. All quieted down once more, but for the explosive glances Vlad exchanged with Lord Ulrich of Celje.

Lady Erzsébet cupped her mouth, referring back to the Ottomans, "The Barbarians from the south to come and ransack Christianity? They will not brainwash us. They will not conquer us." The maneuver didn't settle down any nerves.

Vlad repressed the urge to correct her narrow-minded term 'barbarian'. He knew, speaking from firsthand experience, that the Ottomans were far more religiously tolerant and remarkable innovators compared to the Christian filth that still was blind to the invention of gunpowder in all its forms and abilities. The irony of the ignorant calling the more tolerant 'barbarians' simply based on which side one belonged to left a bitter taste in Vlad's mouth, but he refrained from rocking the capsizing boat.

"You have been quite silent," The Regent turned to Walter, who was previously watching with dull interest, "Have you any opinion, Walter? I would not hesitate to call you friend. Speak your mind."

He kept his shoulders straight from bending to a disrespectful shrug, "Me, correct your decisions? If I am but your manservant, then the regent I must serve stands before my eyes," Walter cleared his throat, "If I _could_ speak candidly-"

"You always can," Matthias allowed, playing leader for a moment before frowning at his father's delay. The Regent nodded his permission.

"The sooner both Lords depart, the sooner will their return be," Walter finished, "United with their forces, on top of the allies we've already gathered, we may be able to match the Ottomans."

Anderson shook his head, "It could take months for Prince Ladislaus to be freed, and I doubt that the Ottomans will wait for all of our forces to be gathered."

"Well, the soldiers won't get anything accomplished by occupying space here," Walter countered, never failing to smile politely in the face of Anderson's acerbic scowl. That man desired nothing more than the honor of first blood for God, as if to prove himself worthy; but Walter doubted that God needed an agent of death to do His biding.

"Perhaps I misunderstood your motives. I thought you were in support of our armies at full strength against the enemy. If your true desire is to scatter our forces across the whole of multiple kingdoms, then, by all means, let us hear it."

"_Gentlemen_," The Regent interrupted as he wove his fingers together in contemplation, "Time and place." It seemed that all his men were high strung to get the war at least underway. It was understandable. The preparation was giving all commanding officers anxiety. At least once the war was started all would be able to channel that angst into fighting. The wait was what was acutely mind-consuming.

"Apologies, my lord," they both said in unison and out of habit.

"Both Lord Ulrichs leave at first light to Austria. I suggest we wave them a farewell and hope that a good omen soon leads them to victory. In the mean time, our soldiers will stay planted here and Wallachia's forces there. I suggest everyone get their rest," their leader concluded.

"Thank you, my lord. And we will join our forces together on our trip home," Lord Ulrich, Baron of Eyczing stated. His first statement in the entire gathering, and apparently that was all that needed to be said.

His promise rang rather hollow, to Vlad.

But the sudden noisy creak of a door broke the silence of the room as a young knight requested permission to enter.

"My lord," Pip opened the door and waited for The Regent to nod him in, "We have put an end to the riots outside of the castle. I have men patrolling the streets, at every corner." The new knight walked delicately in, noting the heated faces of both Walter and Lord Anderson, and the disinterested look on Vlad's face. The Wallachian was always somewhere else, and perpetually plotting, Pip suspected.

"Well done, Sir Pip. I expect those patrols to lead into tomorrow. You all should now get some rest for the morn. We will see the men off to Austria and then, Vlad, I want you to travel to Wallachia and make sure that Lord Vladislav II is putting the men I ordered down there to good use," The Regent dismissed them but also watched Vlad's face liven.

"My lord, it will be done," Vlad bowed his head, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Finally, he would _finally_ be on a mission by himself, and he would be able to assess the situation in Wallachia. Vlad hungered for what was rightfully his, but that little secret was safe with no one.

The Regent repeated one last time to Lord Ulrich of Celje that he could not give him more men, and watched both Lords storm out of the room, unhappy and swearing profanities. Their leader turned to his wife as the other men bowed graciously and left. Letting Matthias go to run around the room, he stretched his legs out before him from the seat. It was the first short moment in days he'd been able to be exclusively alone with people he fully trusted.

Erzsébet bent down to outline his face, "Such fatigue weighs my husband down."

"Mmm, I _have_ been feeling ill," he relaxed his shoulders as her lithe hands rubbed the back of his neck, "A room full of determined men, each with their own opinions, each with their own motives…Did you see the look on Vlad's face when I told him to leave for Wallachia?"

Erzsébet paused, kissing his cheek from behind as he sat, folding his arms across his chest.

He stood suddenly, encaging his wife within his arms and pulling her into his embrace, "I can only be grateful for the people who keep me standing, who keep me strong enough every day to rule over an entire kingdom. Perhaps after the Prince is returned, I will be demoted back to general," he added, privately delighted with the idea -the only demotion he would ever be thankful for.

"I pray every day for your strength to endure what is coming," she confessed.

He planted a gentle kiss on her, "Then you must pray for your survival. My fate is attached to yours."

She glanced at their son who was passed out on the rug, already snoring softly, "Let us hope that _all_ of us will survive."

Images of her lineage destroyed in the face of the onslaught could not be tempered with faith. She, like many other wives on both sides, was plagued with night terrors of what was to come. After witnessing years of war already, no one could deny her what she knew was capable of happening. She was a survivor, and her husband a veteran, but that had not changed the fact that they knew the dance of conflict. Nevertheless, one glance at the innocence she had fought so hard to preserve in her baby boy simply washed most of the angst away.

"Do you think we will prevail?" The Regent snapped her back to reality, consequently tightening his grip slightly. He felt her nod against his chest.

After a pause, Erzsébet smiled, "I do believe we will. Our Lord and Savior will see it through."

.•*´¨`*•.

"I saw you basking in your new title, knight," Vlad grinned as he sauntered down the hallway.

Pip did not refrain from smiling, "Of course I would. I will use it and all its power for extortion."

Vlad paused, faking sincerity as his eyes widened, "You're telling me that you are going to use your title as little more than a means for getting what you desire in life? To get what you want, when you want it? My God, you will be a most uncommon knight."

"Sarcasm," Pip laughed, "Yes, I know it is the stock and trade of what every other titled man does, but I cannot help it if what I truly want was right in front of me all along," he scuffed his new-polished plated boot onto the rug as they continued on their stroll.

Vlad's eyebrow rose, already guessing, "Lady Seras, no doubt."

Pip's eyes flicked at his and then crashed to the ground, "Oui."

"Whatever your endeavors, I wish you the best of luck," Vlad turned a corner and parted ways with his conversation partner.

"Sir Vlad," Pip lowered his voice an octave, "Don't you have your eyes set on Lady Integra? The whole castle is raving about it."

Vlad laughed heartily, mildly perturbed of the gossip circling him, "I've no hope of marrying her, Sir Pip. I do not think I will intentionally tie myself to another."

Pip gawked for a moment before his face relaxed into a methodical softness, "I wouldn't either. Believe me when I tell you that the bar wenches of the taverns I go to keep your belly full and your bed warm. Hell, I had the highest tally when it came to wenches I had bedded. The most in all the castle guard," his chin upturned in slight pride, "But…well, they all pale in comparison to Lady Seras. Much as I hate to admit," he added.

Vlad shook his head slowly, tantalizing Pip with his scornful jeer, "She's tied you. Hook, line, and sinker."

"Might I ask why you would not want to marry?"

Vlad hesitated, never being questioned for his disinclination before, "It is bad enough to be at war one's whole life. That I should need to come home to a dependent wife who lives her life in rags, attached to me, would be intolerable. I have no riches to share. I have no home in which to live, nor do I have a title that any noble or regent would gladly recognize. I am a traitor to both my enemies and my allies, and I have devoted my life to exterminating all who would raise a weapon to Christendom," he paused, shrugging as his indifference calcified, "Tell me which woman would want to live with those strings attached, and I will gladly take her into my arms."

Pip fell silent, shuffling on his separate way, "You're right. No woman in her right mind would want a life like that."

Vlad bowed his head to that, "I'll be off then," and the two departed.

Indeed, no one recognized that he was a lord in his own right, nor did he feel particularly pressed to force the matter. They even mispronounced his name, but Sir Vlad would do…for now. The land he inherited that title from brandished him a traitor, and the people who imprisoned Vlad stripped him of that title to give him a new one. If not for reading the books of his lineage his father demanded he read, Vlad was sure he would have forgotten all.

But Wallachia would be his, soon enough. Intriguing, that The Regent would entrust him to make sure Wallachia was safe. Vlad could guarantee this, of course, but he could not guarantee Lord Vladislav's safety. It would call upon all of Vlad's strength not to slit that man's throat where he stood.

He shook his head; enough of that. That moment would be savored when the time came.

Vlad paused occasionally to look out of the narrowly carved stone in the shape of a cross. Thin and concealed enough to provide not only exceptional range but also protection, it was where the archers from the castle walls would draw their arrows and shoot down at intruders storming the draw bridge. Glancing out, he could see nearly to the edge of where the sun had set, now illuminated by the moon's light. Squinting, for a moment he wished he could see the Ottoman army from there.

Continuing onward, he suddenly heard hushed sounds. Vlad proceeded with caution, sticking himself to the wall as he neared a corner. The whispers increased until he could make out voices; one a woman's, another a man's. Vlad inched closer until he was able to peer around the corner and down the next corridor.

Walter was speaking to Integra, shushing her at every sharp syllable.

Vlad peeled himself off of the stone wall, but stayed within the shadow of the corner, listening.

"That is when we will all give both Lords a farewell on their journey to Austria to save the Prince," Walter informed her.

Integra's hair was growing in slightly, but her eyes drooped and sagged, stature all but completely hunched over, "Wonderful. I hope they succeed," she coughed into her sleeve.

"Their armies leave at first light, so you must get up-"

"Walter, are you blind?" she gestured to the whole of her body, "I have the worst pounding in my head of my entire life, my whole body aches, and I cannot stop sneezing," she wheezed.

Walter instantly put a hand to her head, "You are quite warm," concern flashed before his eyes, "Perhaps I will talk to your father tonight. Just...just get some rest now."

"Thank you," she took his hands, "Thank you, Walter. I know you know I hate the formalities of farewells, but I hope to get over this winter illness, and I doubt standing in the chilly morning waving until the last soldier is out of sight will help my chances of improving," she tightened the blanket around her shoulders and curtsied him a goodnight.

Vlad glued himself to the opposite corner wall as Walter bowed and walked passed, Vlad clearly out of his view. The soft shuffling of the manservant's feet slowly went out of earshot, and only then did Vlad right himself, turning the corner and into the corridor. A pity it was the only way to the barracks. Vlad did not particularly wish to run into Integra.

He was just a horse-length away from Integra's door, keeping a wary eye on it, when it swung open, startling him. He froze, not out of fear, but hoping to go unnoticed as a tall form hoisted a knapsack onto her thin shoulders in front of him and turned down the hallway going the same direction as Vlad. It was clearly Integra.

She did not look over her shoulder, which could have easily revealed to her Vlad's presence, but instead was too preoccupied and continued in a rush down the hallway. Opening the door to a separate room, she slowly stepped inside and vanished from Vlad's sight.

He cautiously followed her and softly turned the knob to the door she had so gingerly closed. Counting to ten and simultaneously weighing his options, curiosity got the better of him, deciding it would be worth her expression to expose himself; especially since, last they were in each other's company, they weren't exactly exchanging purity rings. He could almost see her scarlet face of embarrassment as he opened the door brazenly, only to see and empty room.

Puzzled, he walked into the center of the study. There was no sign of her. There were mountainous bookshelves, no doubt more collections of history books in The Regent's possession, but no sign of a fair maiden. That man was fascinated with books. Vlad spied on a simpler bookcase, catching his attention as he noticed it was filled with short children's books. Some were even grammar booklets with the scribbled writings of a child. Vlad guessed it was a Matthias's writing, but these were not the famous history books that The Regent would have in this study.

Remarking on a small corner of the rug that had been upturned at the corner of the bookcase, Vlad suddenly grinned. It was a secret passageway, and Integra had just moved it. It was easy enough for her, since the children's books were lighter in weight, and thus easier to move. Placing both hands on the end, the shelves groaned softly as he was able to push it to the side and find an entrance tunnel. The steps led downward.

Vlad made no time of it hauling himself downstairs, but he made sure that his boots clanked gently. It wasn't until a couple of minutes had passed by that a fork came into sight. But from what little light a torch in the distance gave Vlad, he could tell which way Integra had gone, because there were no torches lining the walls.

Following her light, he noted that the stairs gave way to a level tunnel. The pathway was almost to the lowest levels of the castle, and that meant one thing: the dungeon. Looking down at the same time his senses were assaulted with the stench of urine and worse, Vlad noticed that he was trudging through the castle's sewer. _Clever girl_, Vlad thought, though more than mildly disgusted that his polished boots would need a clean-up again. Unsure whether or not to turn back and inform Pip, the one man who would not question why he was down there in the first place, Vlad suddenly heard Integra's whisper trail down the tunnel.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, my father is the one who needs attention. He's starving." The male voice was bitter and grieving at the same time.

"Here, I brought a knapsack filled with food, and here…" Vlad could hear Integra plop the bag down and begin to pour liquid into a chalice as he neared the opening.

"Lady Integra, I don't know how much longer the guards are going to be before they return from their midnight stock run."

"It's alright. I made sure that the cook would not have enough provisions for all of them tonight. I'm sure that the delay in their usually punctual return is for the senior officer scolding him right now."

"How?" the male voice sounded astonished.

Vlad could hear the askew humor in her voice as she answered, "Let's just say that someone left the barn doors open, and the hounds made off with a few tasty bits of meat from the larder. The rest is simply...collateral."

There was a pause where Vlad made the last corner and peeked his head through to see the dungeon. A malodorous room, it packed cellmates in like beans in a can, and if the stench of urine, sweat, and excrement didn't turn stomachs, then the decaying corpses next to them would. The room was fairly large and had a tall ceiling, but the iron bars only extended halfway. A few benches were lying around for sore guards to rest their feet, but there were no other homely touches. Neither would there be for the infamous torture room next door with the hooks, cages, heated prods, and stretching boards. The cells were empty of any living men, but for two brandished traitors and a lady sitting on the opposite side of the bars, feeding them food.

For a moment, Vlad felt for Lord Victor and Lord George. There were few who could empathize in being brandished a traitor.

Very few, indeed.

_Too bad it was a fleeting moment_, Vlad thought, turning on his heels to head back up.

But when he noticed Victor reaching for Integra's hand, and their fingers intertwined within the iron bars, it took every ounce of control not to enter the room and stir up some feathers. Vlad thought the better of it, hoping to one day use his knowledge of this secret against her in their game of minds.

"You will get out with your life," Integra promised.

Victor squeezed her hands supportively, making slow circles on the tops of her hands with his thumbs, "That you would risk punishment to feed us is enough to fill my heart with hope, my lady. If I die, it will be with a belly full of food."

"Shh," Integra handed him another torn piece of bread, "We just have to seek out the truth. I know people who could investigate this. I know there is someone who doubts it was you. It cannot be just me."

Vlad glanced down knowingly, wondering if God himself had placed the words in her, or if Integra knew all along of his minor investigation. Perhaps she was thinking of asking him, even if she did not know of the advancements he made in rooting around by himself. He had told no one, and, as far as Vlad knew, no one was informed of what he had done.

"Confound it," Vlad murmured as he blindly made his way back up the filthy tunnel and staircase in the dark. If his liberator wished it done, then he would make it so. There were many guilty things he could do that would not weigh on his conscience, but ignoring what Integra wanted was not one of them. He was indebted to her, not matter how much he wished the circumstances reversed.

.•*´¨`*•.

Erzsébet rushed to open the large wooden double doors to her husband's chamber. Who could possibly be calling at this ungodly hour?

She heard the hinges creak in protest, but the door gave way to five large men in full plate armor, shields, helmets, and all garb appropriate for a ceremonious welcoming in full capes. Each of them looked down at her and bowed graciously without hesitation. Two were tall with short haircuts. One of the tall had a surprisingly long tattoo across his face and black eyes to match the rictus grin Erzsébet was now receiving. The other tall man stood completely reticent and stoical, as he chewed on a single straw of hay. A smaller, more boyish looking young man smiled pleasantly. He had the demeanor of a cat, though Erzsébet could not explain why. The lithe one in the back was donning a tight-fitting shirt and ripped pants, and the only one with a shoulder-length haircut. He had four sets of spectacles all fused together, the glass circles in front smaller than the ones that widened in the back. The pudgiest, who wore full plate armor, took a step forward, marking his superiority over the men behind him.

"My Governess, Lady Erzsébet, the Teutonic Knights are at your disposal. The Regent of Hungary ist informed of our agreement, yes?" he pressed.

Deciphering what he was saying from his thick Germanic accent, Erzsébet's mouth floundered open and closed for a moment before forming a fragmented statement, "Of...course..." she was about to call out when her husband's familiar hands fell onto her shoulders.

"I trust you will appreciate the accommodations we have made for you…" The Regent trailed his ending to induce an introduction.

"Mein men simply call me Herr Major," the pudgy, small one waved a hand and a sealed writ slapped into his palm instantly as Herr Major handed it to The Regent. "This is Doc," he pointed to the lithe man with spectacles, "Zorin," he waved to what Erzsébet now realized in horror was a woman with the large tattoo and sociopathic grin, "Schrödinger," the cat-like boy bowed his head, "Captain," the man biting the straw curtly nodded, "…and this ist Lady Rip," he parted the men to reveal a sixth person: a beautiful young maiden in full-gown attire with ebony hair nearly down to her knees, one strand in particular coiling in a circle around the front of her cherub-like face.

She curtsied, "Speaking as Envoy to the Teutonic Knights in the north, ve are pleased to be of assistance. Ve must apologize for our tardiness, but the winter snow settles, irrespective of however quickly ve tried to arrive."

"Come, please," The Regent motioned for them to enter, "Let me fill you in."

.•*´¨`*•.

:O I told you I'd bring in Hellsing characters, but I bet you didn't think I meant those Nazis over there. I'm hoping all of them will fit somehow, but this was just too fun to ignore…even if I have no idea how it will work. Meh, I'll give it a shot.

Did anyone else want to scream "INTEGRA!" to Vlad when he asked Pip which woman would want to live with him expelling heathens from the world? As I wrote that, I almost put in a footnote next to the text saying it.

Took all my strength not to.

I should be proud.

To **KamiSama**: Thank you so much for your helpful input over pm. I was so happy to go over it with you and make sure I had everything correct. Here's hoping I don't take too much creative liberty. As for the name, I actually had looked up what Vlad's full name was after **Sylvan Moon** asked me if it really was Vladimir a couple of chapters back. I had realized that I had gotten it wrong, but I haven't made an attempt yet to go back and re-correct the couple times I called him Vladimir. As my atonement, I added in this chapter Vlad's thoughts on the people who did say his name incorrectly. I like to think he's frowning at me in there somewhere. As for him speaking Russian...I'm not entirely sure where I said he knew the language, and I certainly know I didn't say he was from Russia...yes, I was hoping that Integra would keep her snarky snarky :) I love channeling it sometimes, and she is a bit of a viper in Hellsing, so why not?

To** Alaina Rayne**: Oh, you make me laugh. "...I have yet to find it." I'm happy that you can empathize. People have lost files before, no doubt, but few can empathize an entire hard drive failure. Thank you. I'm glad that refreshing and rereading my older chapters is just as entertaining while you wait. I hadn't considered it. Feel free to point me out on any times where I've said "prince" when speaking about Ladislaus, or "king", when speaking about The Regent. I've been scouring my text, but if you've caught something in your perusal, let me know. If you want to, though.

To** Fantasy Dreamer1992**: With all the encouragement of the world, I survived finals week. It's worse than death, isn't it? Death, by its very nature is peaceful. It's dy_ING_ that is torture. And it certainly felt like my body was finally giving out to the flu. Don't get me wrong, stress can be used as high octane fuel to continue late into the night with a mug of Monster and blood-shot eyes as one flips endlessly through scribbled study-guides. But it's that transition from having stress to fuel you to no stress and one's immune system imploding. I go through a cycle, you see. Quite lovely, yes. Retyping was my reward at the end of the tunnel, and it was strangely therapeutic, so thanks for cheering me on.

To **MaliceArchangela**: Mmm, I like the song, thank you. I definitely see similarities. Thank you for your support. I'm both surprised and glad that there is more than one person who has experienced the horror of one's work being lost. Gut-wrenching when it's all of your unfinished chapters and notes as well. Ah, but it's a lovely feeling to start fresh, too. In sculpting it back up again, my eye caught new concepts.

To **Soul93**: Yes, I like to think of him as having some honor yet. Whether it has weathered away too much in the wake of her wrath at him is another matter entirely... :)

To** Aen Silver Fire**: Ahh, fresh blood. I like my tasty reviews. Aw, you don't want to see Victor beheaded? You don't want to see the crowds screaming for the detachment of his pretty head from his shoulders? Saving lives does not a good war story make, my dear :) hehe.

Hmm, well...your insistence of apologizing shall be nobly accepted on my part. But only because I am worthy to be treated as your better, so thank god you remembered protocol and bowed your head to me. In light of current events, my foul mood has been tempered. Vlad and I have spoken, and he has decided you shall be spared ;) Although he cannot ensure your safety along this journey.

I can only say that the reason you were not the 100th reviewer is because of all the times you hesitated and did not publish what you had wanted to say. Karma is a demanding mistress, is she not?


	25. The End of the Beginning

**A/N:** *runs up panting*

Guys! Guys! I am *huff* in the middle of correcting all of the incorrect titles *huff* I had placed previously. I am officially going back line-by-line and making sure that everyone, to my knowledge, has the correct titles. I know you can 'find' a word and 'replace' it with the correct one in Microsoft Word, but the changes somehow DIDN'T transfer over when I uploaded everything back up into Doc Manager. Lurv technology sometimes. And I shit you not the find in Doc Manager does nothing.

Once again, to further clarify:

The regent-governor: Lord  
>Ladislaus: Lord<br>Integra: Lady  
>Seras: Lady<br>Pip: Sir (because he's only a knight)  
>Vlad: SirLord, and depending on how generous the Hungarians are feeling, he's either. Usually, they only wish to call him "Sir", but he is, by birthright, a Lord. (I partially don't want to call him Lord Vlad because that would make me feel forced to call him by his complete and formal title: Lord Vladislaus III, and we already have two Lord Ulrich's and two Ladislaus's (one a Prince and the other a Lord). I don't want to have two Lords (one Vladislav and the other Vladislaus) and pardon my Saxon but fuuuuck that's a swirling vortex of entropy my mind does NOT wish to enter, and I've already messed it up once. I'm just keepin' it shortened to Sir Vlad. All those with an issue, bite me. No, wait. Bite Vlad. That would be more fun, amirite?)  
>Walter: …Walter.<br>Anderson: Lord  
>Vladislav II: Lord<p>

Prince Ladislaus is the one being held hostage, not Ladislaus Hunyadi, whom all you know. I love how they loved to use the same names over and over again. Having fun with the two Lord Ulrich characters. Yeah, that's _loads_ of hilarity. You should come join me.

I tried to go back and rewrite Lord blah blah and Lady blah blah more often (to get you guys used to me using it) in previous chapters...Because that's totally how we read: backwards.

I won't address them by their full titles _all the time_, because, well, this isn't an invite from the Queen of England. I don't have to continuously type Lord Anderson or Lord Ulrich, Princely Count of oh-my-god-I'm-getting-wrist-cramps, because I know after writing it down numerous times you will already be familiar with his/her rightful title. I'm trying just to say their FULL titles when characters are dialoguing back and forth, as it would be proper.

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

The End of the Beginning

Pip jogged to keep up with Vlad's quickening pace. The Wallachian had trail-blazed a path for himself, Pip, and Costel, as they weaved in and out of the streets downtown. Shaking off the last of a hangover, Pip focused his discrete grip on Costel's arm as they walked in the wake of Vlad's pathway. People sensed that the group traveled with a great sense of purpose and steered out of the way, consciously or not. The market was just beginning to bustle with work as dawn approached, the sun peeking in the form of misty morning rays of light through the thick foliage of the tree line in the far distance. It could not have been a more beautiful sight with freshly fallen snow, but for the fact that people had to first dig themselves out of the snow and pave a pathway along the streets for business to even begin. Nevertheless, villagers faced their toil with cheerful alacrity as the morning started to wake.

"Sir," Pip shook his head again, rubbing sleep off of his eyes, "Why exactly are we-"

Vlad turned his head, though he made no effort to slow his break-neck pace, "We are running late!"

Pip swallowed the remainder of his question and shrugged to Costel, whom he'd met only moments before. Costel refused to make eye contact, which forced a sliver of suspicion to cut across Pip's conscience. It was strange that Vlad woke him halfway into the night, but what Pip was trying to wrap his head around was why they were dragging the owner of a local tavern they had frequented all the way back to the castle. And for what were they late? The day to even begin? Pip still felt cheated out of a good night's rest.

It wasn't until they were nearly upon the main gate that Costel began to pull back on Pip's grip.

"If you show my face, if people recognize me, if something happens, then I could be beheaded."

Vlad turned his head slightly in recognition that he had heard what the old man said behind, "You will be unharmed. All I ask is for you to take a good look-that's it."

Pip arched an eyebrow. "Why would you want him to-"

"For identification," Vlad interrupted again, this time carving his path through the last of the villagers and onto the castle grounds.

The group peeled off to the side of the castle wall and surreptitiously made their way to the edge of the drawbridge, so as to avoid the massive army entrenched out in front. Servants and guards from within the castle were already walking in and out of the grounds to fetch any last things, making two armed men and an older man in cloth look rather inconspicuous.

Vlad nestled them off to the side but remaining on the edge of a small grassy knoll that placed them high enough to see everyone. Pip could see the regent, his wife, Lord Anderson, and Seras talking to both Lord Ulrich of Eczing and Lord Ulrich, Princely Count of Celje. The Lords' combined army was about to break off from this post and head to Austria to save Prince Ladislaus, constituting a 'farewell' for good luck and fortune along the road, and, of course, a safe trip home.

Vlad nodded for Pip to release Costel and pointed to where the regent and his court were standing.

"Sir, what is going on?" Pip could not refrain anymore.

Costel stood between them, though he seemed more focused on identifying someone in the distance than overhearing anything on which Pip needed clarification.

Vlad waved another man over from the crowd, though this man did not blend in as easily. Robed in heavy wools, a dark-colored cowl, and black beady eyes that nervously shifted from person to person, Pip could recognized him as the castle apothecary. Vlad pointed to the crowd, but more specifically, to where the regent and his court stood.

"Sir," Pip pressed, "What the f-"

Vlad shushed him with his gauntlet, "We wait."

The knight sighed into a pout as he crossed his arms and impatiently shifted from foot to foot. He focused, instead, on the faceless soldiers of the army folding their small tents and strapping things to their horses, readying the caravans of food and supplies they would need for the journey, as well as stocking up on anything the castle could spare to provide them. It was a controlled chaos: people rushed around, but they had orders to carry out and a purpose. There were jobs to do and work to be done before everyone was corralled into the long march ahead.

It almost made Pip long to be in a band of brothers, or a team of people to go out and seek glory for their country. His nose crinkled. Well, maybe he didn't want to do it for his country. Maybe just for himself. Glory and riches and wealth for himself. That should do.

"Yes," Costel nodded solemnly, "Yes, that's him."

The apothecary also began to nod, "That one. That one there."

Pip followed their gazes to what he thought could be one of the Lord Ulrich's, though the distance the group was from the target impaired his vision.

Vlad took hold of both of their shoulders in a vice grip and bent down to whisper in between them, "Check. Again."

Both men withered away from his tight grip and looked back. When they nodded with certainty and turned to Vlad, his demeanor had contracted. His shoulders sagged, his face drooped, and his stance confined, as if he hated the presence of every person in contact around him.

"_This_…" Vlad ran a hand through his hair, turning his back to the army as they began to form ranks, "This could mean civil war."

Pip jerked forward and almost slammed his hand onto Vlad, "What?!"

"I promise you, Sir, Lord Ulrich of Celje is the man whom I lent the book to for a week or so," the apothecary stated.

Costel chimed in, "And I saw both men in my tavern conspiring in hushed whispers over the long table in the back for hours."

As if noting Pip's presence for the first time, Vlad turned around and removed his hand from his mouth, "The regent will not believe me…but he may believe _you_."

Pip stifled a roar as he asked one last time, this time grasping Vlad's shoulders and looking directly into his eyes, "Sir. What. Is. Going. On."

"Knight, you must take Costel to a guest room in the castle and assure that a guard is posted outside of his door at all times. Zargo," Vlad called; the apothecary walked up to him, "You will wait until Sir Pip summons you to the regent. I want both of you to inform our leader of what you've seen."

Costel frowned, "If we are planning to hang both Lords, then we might wish to hurry. They are both saddling their horses as we speak and are about to embark on a much glorified journey to save Prince Ladislaus."

"He's right. It might be easier to take them down now than when they return as honored heroes," Zargo pointed out.

"No!" Vlad herded the group closer and closer to the drawbridge, "We cannot risk such a scene, and not when the Prince truly does need saving. If we affront the Lords now, and are successful in charging them with treason, the consequences and repercussions of it will wrack the Kingdom into shambles. We need their army to succeed, we need the true king on the throne, we need them to come back and assist with the Ottomans when they emerge triumphant, but most of all, we need stability."

"In the hands of murderers?" Pip caught on, "Sir, I'm all for divide and conquer, but not when it's my own damn side. We need their forces _here_. If we can depose them and place the regent in charge of this massive force, then that could give us the advantage in numbers that we need in order to slay the Ottoman Army. Let's do this now!"

Despairing and torn between doing both, Vlad looked from one man to the next. Both sides had such valid points that their truth nearly rang in his ears. Pip's armed hand itched to draw his sword, especially if it meant cutting down the tyrants who nearly murdered Seras. Vlad noticed and shook his head gravely.

"No. Sometimes, one must do what is smart, not what is right. Taking the Lords' army and leaving them in disgrace is powerful, but so would be the turmoil that arose from this action. Letting Lord Ulrich of Eczying and Lord Ulrich of Celje retrieve the Prince would save thousands more than compared to losing thousands from deposing them right now. By revealing they are traitors, we self-inflict a horrible gash onto the Kingdom, one that it will not be able to patch quickly enough to face the oncoming barrage of Ottoman hits. Hungary will have bled out before She even sees the first battle, for we all will have killed each other in what could likely be a civil war," Vlad concluded, "Should their treachery come to light."

Vlad's two witnesses lowered their heads and agreed quietly. Pip stood, too silently enraged to agree but recognized privately that Vlad was correct.

The Wallachian turned to the knight and tiredly patted his hand on Pip's back, "Come. I do have much to tell you, for when I leave, _you_ will be leading this investigation."

Pip swallowed, "And…when, exactly, do you leave?"

Vlad sighed, forcing a strained smile to split his cracked lips, "Tonight."

.•*´¨`*•.

Seras watched Integra race around their adjoined room as she flung things into her open knapsack. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Seras glanced out the window and to the lowering sun.

"It must be passed noon already," Integra shook her head and hiked up her trousers. Yes, her trousers. She rather liked them. Enough with the feminine dresses, the men had it right. Pants were much better: more leg room, better balance on a horse instead of riding side-saddle in a dress -the nightmare!- and one did not have to pick it up like a skirt in order to move quickly. Ah, the versatility and magnificence of one article of clothing, and Integra wasn't allowed to wear it because doing so would not be 'proper'. To hell with being proper! In order to succeed, one must be _efficient_, even if it meant casting aside whatever social convention dictated one do.

"You know I will not stop asking until you tell me," Seras folded her arms across her chest.

Integra groaned as she reached for another dress and rolled it up in haste, "I told you. I'm going away for a few months."

"Where?"

"Somewhere where people will not incessantly pester me with stupid questions."

"It is not a stupid question!" Seras objected, rising to her feet and grabbing a corner of Integra's sack of things, "Tell me, or I will wrench this out and everything will spill."

Her older sister sighed, calculating she would not be able to stop Seras in time if she lunged for her, "Alright. I'm going away with Sir Vlad to Wallachia. I'm going as a type of…envoy…to make sure that Lord Vladislav II does father's biding."

Seras let go of the cloth, satisfied, but it led to more questions, "Why wouldn't Lord Vladislav II do what father bid him? He was, after all, placed there by father as an ally."

"Right you are," Integra patronized, "But, you see, the problem is that Lord Vladislav II was placed as Wallachia's ruler after Sir Vlad was chased out." She placed her hand mirror into another sack she had begun filling.

"Ah," Seras nodded, "So you are going as a babysitter to make sure they play nice and do not slaughter one another. Good thing, too, considering I also heard that Lord Vladislav II murdered Sir Vlad's father."

"Indeed. And his elder brother."

Seras rubbed her chin thoughtfully and coiled a string of hair around her finger, "But if father has already agreed to send you with Sir Vlad as an…'envoy'…then how come you are rushing to leave as if it were a secret?"

Integra froze, her back stiffening and her face scrunching in anger, "Look…he…I…"

Seras giggled, "Yes, Miss No-One-Can-Challenge-Me-With-My-Vast-Intellect?"

"Alright, I was on my way to inform father now," Integra explained, though there was exasperation in her tone. Who was her sister to interrogate Integra like this -a part of the constabulary?

"You mean ask _permission_. I doubt father will let you. That is…unless you…well, never mind," Seras danced around Integra's arms as her older sister lunged for her.

"What? Go on," Integra gritted her teeth, "Let us see if you can match my vast intellect. Challenge me."

Seras shrugged nonchalantly, lowering herself onto her bed and raising her arms up to rest her chin, "The regent will ask you what has caused your compulsion to leave the castle. He will ask, since you will _hypothetically_ be traveling with Sir Vlad, if perhaps you might have…feelings for him."

Integra seethed, trying to relax her fists as they furled the cloth of the neatly placed sacks, "Hypothetically, and in reality, I do not care for Sir Vlad, and he knows it."

"Who? Sir Vlad or father? Because he will ask you, and it might be in your best interests to lie and say you do."

Integra ripped a corner of the cloth of her sack off as she tried to tie it calmly, "To what end? So that I may marry a most disturbing and pompous man?"

Seras shook her head, "You are taking this too personally. I'm just saying that you will have a more solid foundation upon which to convince father if you told him you had feelings for Sir Vlad. If there is no solid foundation, then anything you try to build upon it will collapse -your argument."

Integra threw up her hands, glaring at her gloating younger sister, and walked in silent rage to the door. Closing it with pristine stealth, she groaned again, softly sagging against the wall. Lying to her father that she was in love and wished to marry Vlad in order to travel away with him wouldn't make the regent any happier to give her up than insisting Vlad needed a babysitter to make sure he didn't kill Lord Vladislav II. If anything, her father might just send some bootlicking, brown-nosing, sycophant to watch over Vlad instead of his own daughter.

Groaning out her misfortune, she composed herself and stepped forward with surety down the hall when a rich baritone voice called out to her. Integra gasped in surprise at who it was.

His tall, rigid stance told Integra enough that he had overheard her and Seras's loud conversation. Troubled and vexed beyond compare at what she was wearing, his gaze finally fixed with the ground as a hand came up to massage his wrinkled forehead thoroughly.

"F-_father_," Integra curtsied, a formality she only deigned to recognize when she wished to get back into his good graces.

His throat worked up and back down at the calling of his name, but he held up his index finger and inhaled a deep breath, "You…you wish to travel with that…man."

It was a statement, not a question; as if Integra should even think about correcting it, anyway.

She nodded solemnly, "Yes, father. How much-"

"I overheard enough to wish to investigate this myself," the regent paced slowly passed her, trying to stifle a spiteful laugh, "All this time I was trying to save the innocence within, and you end up running to trouble anyway."

Integra laughed out a syllable, "Yes, but I am no longer a child. I am a grown woman."

"Yet you insist on wearing a man's clothing. Integra, my patience…" he shook his head and gripped her shoulders softly, diving into her eyes in a desperate search if this was some kind of prank or joke, "Integra, I know that you must be put off by what has happened with Lord Victor, but that does not mean you should cast your lot with Sir Vlad."

"I do not love him, father," Integra stated sharply, "Sir Vlad is my escape out of this place. My true motives are to travel and represent you."

The regent's brows crashed together as his hand worked around his mustache, "A representative? An envoy?"

Integra nodded vehemently, "Yes, father, an envoy. A diplomatic agent. Someone to-"

"Lord Vladislav II is an ally," he said stiffly, "He does not need a woman envoy to know what my orders for him are."

"Yes," Integra agreed, already finding her balance in this civil discourse, "Yes, you are right. But sometimes allies, especially in times of war, need…they need reminders of whom they serve," she lifted his hands from her shoulders, "I have a proposition. You allow me to travel to Wallachia, and I will carry out your word as Law. I will make sure Sir Vlad does your bidding, and without killing Lord Vladislaus II in the process."

Her father shook his head for a moment, his face turning peaked in a pale and sickly color at the thought, "Integra, I cannot allow this. I would sooner throw Lord Anderson into the fray before you, or myself for that matter. You would be heading straight into the front lines. No woman should face what carnage lies ahead."

"No, you need Lord Anderson here," she grabbed his shaking hands and kissed them, "Father, you know my place is not here. You know I will never settle down and become a wife, you know I will never submit to such a life as servitude. You are as sure of this as you are sure that the sky is blue. I cannot change, and neither can the sky."

"Integra," her father whispered as he raised his hands to caress her face, "It is too dangerous."

She wriggled out of his grasp, this time with more hostility than she intended, "Father, if you do not allow me to do this, then you will have forever sent me to eternal damnation."

"What?" his voice raised an octave in disbelief.

Integra paused for a moment to settle the tension, never taking her eyes away from his as she concentrated all of her sincerity, "…You _know_ I am sure-footed. You _know_ I am resourceful. You _know_ I have a silver tongue -something I proudly tell others I inherited from you- and can talk circles around Sir Vlad. You _know_ I will accurately spread your word and smite those who ignore it, and you _know_that Sir Vlad will need someone to calm him down as he takes orders from the man who murdered his father. The time is _now_, father."

It had come to his attention that Vlad may need someone to accompany him to Wallachia, but he had thought Lord Vladislav II more than capable of protecting his own hide against Vlad. The ruler of Wallachia had guards aplenty to stick to his backside for the whole duration that Vlad was present. But, adeptly, Integra forced him to remember the fact that Vlad was overly resourceful. He had survived the regent's wrath when the leader chased him out before, so who was to say that Vlad wouldn't be able to cheat Death again?

"Lord Vladislav II has guards who will be more than willing to lay down their lives for his to remain alive."

She shook her head, "There is a higher power at work, father, and I am not speaking of God. There is a _traitor_ in our house, and we've yet to identify who it is," Integra continued before he started on about Victor, "And if it was Victor and Lord George and you are so certain, then why haven't their heads rolled? No, you realize that it probably could not have been their doing- that and the fact that Lord Victor's Seneschal, Marius, adamantly defended their joint innocence, before you dismissed him."

The regent fell silent, flinching as she continued to drive home another point he hadn't considered.

Integra cupped her father's cheeks, "You can trust no one else to carry out your orders better than me. You know this. And you need to reassert your power -now more than ever- along the borders where alliances are predictably stretched so thin."

"Why now?" he pulled her into a hug, knowing the act was the only thing he could do to stop her talking, "Why, my love? Why didn't you ask to go with Lord Ulrich of Eczying and Lord Ulrich of Celje to Austria, where it would have been safer? Why with Sir Vlad to the battlefront?"

To this, Integra had no definite answer. She paused to calmly gather her thoughts and search her soul. Any sane woman wishing to prove her intellect would have jumped at the opportunity to wag her silver tongue to save Prince Ladislaus, but she had gravitated toward Death instead. Why? And if 'proper women' stayed at home taking care of their husbands and children, provided comfort, and led normal lives, then what did that make her? Abnormal? Unnatural? As equal a renegade as Vlad? Furthermore, why was she not scared?

Perhaps she didn't want to go into the heartland of Europe because she was drawn to the outskirts that harbored conflict, as was Vlad. Perhaps they both had a fascination with death, combat, and struggle that bordered on obsession. Perhaps they were truly not as different as Integra initially had thought. That was the only truth left.

Lifting her face from his chest, she planted one long kiss onto his cheek, wiping his tear in the process. "I think you know why, father."

The regent exhaled a ragged breath and kissed her one last time, "You are resourceful. The most resourceful woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing," he grinned sadly, "I suppose, in a way, I could not have tied you down forever."

She laughed, curtsying, "I love you."

"You will write me every week, free spirit. That's an executive order," he grabbed her, tossing aside formalities, "And don't think I'm sending you alone. Walter will accompany you, along with your ladies-in-waiting. If Lord Vladislaus II or Sir Vlad get any ideas, your ladies will set them straight, if Walter doesn't outright kill them," he sighed, content with his order, "That is the least I can do, short of holding your hand as you leave."

They departed amicably, the regent watching her smiling face, expression almost giddy, as it disappeared quickly behind her chamber door. All there was left to do was pray, and hope that his wife did not notice her absence, though the probability of that flew out the window as fast as the oncoming wrath he was about the experience.

.•*´¨`*•.

End to Part One.

For all of you wishing for more Vlad and Integra scenes, the next 25 chapters (I plan/hope) are going to be focused on their time in Wallachia fighting some Ottomans, while Seras and Pip help the regent come to grips with the fact that Lord Ulrich (titles, titles, titles), and Lord Ulrich (titles, titles, titles) are baaaad men.

Ya hear that, Victor? You might be saved in time.

…Might.

Gah, this chapter felt like giving typing-birth: it took forever, was painful (two words: carpal tunnel), I had to push for around 4 hours (mentally push, not physically...what were you thinking?), but the result is a b-e-a-utiful baby ending to my Part One saga to this.

And I could not have done it without my midwife, , you have been, of late, completely integra(l) to my purpose for writing this. Without brainstorming on this chapter with you, never would I have known it à propos of that time to send Integra off to Wallachia as an envoy.

Thank you. For everything. For your information. For your enthusiasm. For your constant explanations and re-explanations. For your timelines. For your invaluable help.

Love and cupcakes, always.


	26. Part Two: The Arrival

**A/N**: Iiiiiiii might me rushing with this chapter, but I want to get it out there. Grammar and punctuation be damned. Let's jump the gun on this one. I'm feelin' a little care-free today.

So I'm hoping that I am only a third of the way done. I'm planning for there to be 50 more chapters, give or take. This 25 will be on Integra/Vlad/Wallachia/gaining power, and the next 25 on Vlad's downfall. I'll warn all now and say that there are gaps in his life that we will need to cross over quickly, but efficiently.

Btw~ that man who is posing as Vlad in the upper left-hand corner as the image to my story—can anyone guess who it is?

*Large Hint* Most recently, he was in The Hobbit. (Though this pic of him is in a different role).

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

Chapter subject to change.

.•*´¨`*•.

Part Two: The Arrival

It felt as though innumerable days had passed. The caravan of people slowly inching east to Wallachia had seemed to have lost count long ago, the only indication of time passing and seasonal change being the buds on plants starting to grow once more.

It was impossible for Integra to believe it had been only two weeks, but she recounted the beginning of it all as she sat quietly in her saddle.

They traveled light on the insistence of her father. They brought only what they could carry either on their person or on a horse comfortably, and though the group seemed relatively nimble and quick, it felt like it took years to even gain a thumb's-length across Vlad's map.

Sometimes, after a freshly fallen snow, the caravan of people would lose the trail to Wallachia in the blinding white haze. Many times Integra's party would lose half the day due to a horse's sore legs, a footman's sickened state against the cold wind, or the whole group's failure to identify where the damn trail was and which fork in the road to take. It was delay, after delay, after delay, and the nights were even worse. In the beginning, Integra felt excitement, honor, dedication, and strength that could have moved mountains. By the end of the third night, she was content to stay bundled in her bedroll all day if it meant she could continue feeling her toes.

Just when Integra thought the weather could get no worse, the snow gave way to a deluge of rain—a true enhancement, to be sure. Nothing screams 'fantastic adventure' like trudging through the mud for hours with sopping clothes after a painful day receiving saddle sores on a lame horse that limped with each stride.

Sadly, most days went uneventful with only the occasional excitement of a servant or footman sighting some animal off in the distance that would then cause a fright in all the servant girls and Ladies.

Yet, if anything proved amusing in Integra's downtime, it was watching her gaggle of Ladies-in-waiting complain, fret, and squabble like the hens they were. They initially had silent disagreements through arched brows and puckered lips, or an upturned nose and a disdainfully jutted chin. It graduated from there to small arguments that never lasted more than a moment, but eventually the Ladies found ways to dispute all day of their disbelief in the regent for letting Integra go, or quarreling over whose turn it was to ride to avoid ruining her dress any further, or even something as basic as bickering over who was going to make a pot of stew for supper, even though it would clearly be done by one of the maids. By the end, the Ladies found any excuse to argue with one another.

Fortunately, the same could not have been said for Walter. He was steady as a rock. In fact, too steady—looming. He would watch Integra and Vlads' interactions like a hawk if he was preoccupied elsewhere, for example calming the clucking hens of the group. But he was always within eyesight, and it made Integra feel safe and secure, if not a tad exasperated at times. Often she would set up her bedroll and side tent next to his for comfort, and they would talk in hushed whispers of their plans long into the night. As each day passed, Integra realized how much she needed Walter's support. She privately thanked her father's foresight in ordering him with her along the trip.

As for Vlad, he hardly recognized Integra's presence throughout the entire voyage, which all but infuriated her nerves. It wasn't that she wanted to be the center of his attention, but she would rather him have at least known she existed. Instead, Vlad spent most of his time as their silent guide towing the line in the front as their leader, and in his downtime with Lady Jusztina. Integra did not know if this was to upset her or if their feelings toward one another were truly mutual. It was clear Jusztina felt something. Rumors certainly spread in close quarters. Much to Integra's joy, though, Walter would always pry the Ladies off of Integra as their gossip nearly consumed her.

Soon after Vlad's long walk with Jusztina one evening, it was obvious that she was smitten. To be fair, the girl did try to thwart his charm and flawless etiquette, but in the end, apparently no one was immune to his captivating presence. The ensuing afternoons riding next to Jusztina challenged every ounce of Integra's will not to gouge her own eyes out. The Lady blabbered on and on of how romantic he was, how concerned he was for her to be content, how endearing his actions were, and how he clearly was leading her to believe there was a prize at the end of the road.

Integra nearly snickered. Prize, yes, but it differed to whom one spoke. To Jusztina, it was engagement; knowing Vlad, it was probably her virginity alone.

However, quite out of the blue, Vlad began speaking to Integra again. Of course, it was only in the context of Integra leaving the Ladies after an eye-rolling, one-sided conversation about how breathtaking Vlad was. Integra would peel off and trot forward and away from the women, making her ripe for venting. Lo and behold, Vlad would pull alongside her heroically and offer her a short word on how dull the hens could be when talking about him. Yet Vlad's narcissism would always bleed through, starting with the fact that the topic was always about him; whether it was about his intelligent and keen mind that was swollen with intellect, or his plans and strategies to defend and protect Wallachia. The latter gave Integra something to casually think of and converse about, and he did have many great ideas. The most tolerable days were when the two of them would discuss things to the point of forgetting where they were until Integra heard Walter's protective call.

Integra was privately thankful for those moments of intellectual freedom where she could speak candidly to Vlad about battle strategies, however brief those moments were. Cabin fever was slowly gnawing its way down her mind that Integra soon began to daydream about escaping the place and mad dreams of hog-tying Lady Ana and Lady Jusztina to a tree and continuing onward.

If only.

Fortunately, the day the caravan arrived at the recently relocated heartland of Wallachia, the situation was all but maddening.

Integra's back straightened in her saddle as her eyes focused back on the road ahead of her.

After what seemed like an era, the trail finally led to the stronghold and relatively new city of Târgoviște fast approaching in the distance. Vlad eagerly clucked his horse into a canter, forgetting to transport his herd the rest of the way. Integra quickly followed suit after him and Walter after her. The Ladies were left to their own devices and so were the servants, much to their collective consternation.

Civilization, at last. Integra would finally know the warmth of a fire, a hot meal, and a soft bed by nightfall. She would be received well, would be given presents to return to her father as tribute, would feast on wild boar and not undercooked rabbit leg, would be dressed in the finest cloth, and would wine and dine with the court.

The bustling new city was alive with trade and prosperity. Such energy in the face of a looming threat was infectious to Integra. It was not as quaint as she had originally thought. The city stood on its own merit when compared to the robust style of where she had just come, and it was ever growing and expanding. As she rode in with Vlad and Walter, Integra absorbed the scene as it unfolded before her eyes. Trade, barter, and gambling were the three modes of moneymaking. Merchants hollered their prices into the lively pathways as street rats had already begun their arts of pocket picking. Whispers of the famous treasure troves that one could find in Târgoviște were legendary. One could not go through a sitting at supper without the locals wrapping up travelers' imaginations with untold fame and fortune at their fingertips.

Târgoviște was quickly becoming a jewel in the crown of the Kingdom of Hungary. Economy was friend here, and so were innovative and inventive spirits. Everything worked in tandem, no doubt the product of the nobility and ruling court relocating to Târgoviște from Curtea de Argeș. And what a beauty this new city was.

As the group weaved through the stirring streets, Integra noticed the Princely Court, or Curtea Domnească, as they approached. It was surrounded by stone walls and a moat, while a smaller church was within the fortified stronghold. The compound was daunting, to say the least. Guards protected it faithfully at every post along the walls and watched on as she and her fellow riders entered their domain.

One in particular held his hand up as they approached the steps, "Halt. Who wishes entrance into the hall?"

Integra, slightly stunned that Lord Vladislav II was not present to address her, pulled up in front of Vlad as he motioned for her to take the lead, "It is I, Lady Integra Hunyadi, of House Hunyadi, sent as envoy from the regent, Lord János Hunyadi."

Walter promptly pulled out the official and sealed papers inside his saddle bag and handed them to the questioning guard.

He perused the paper with great interest and motioned his hand to lower weapons. It was at this point that Integra noticed why Vlad did not move a muscle—crossbows were aimed at each of their hearts. What once were peaceable guards mindlessly operating their posts, working just another day, transformed into focused, poised bodies and steadying hands, ready to release the horror of what armor-penetrable arrows do best to the human body.

"I see you are who you claim to be. You may enter," he side-stepped out of the way forward.

Integra nodded dully, "Might I ask why the men are so ready to kill their allies?"

The guard scornfully scoffed, "My Lady, everyone has caught wind of what happened at Castle Hunyad. I doubted you would mind our outward severity in introductions to all who approach the stronghold after what happened to your father and brother, not to mention all of the other nobles who lost their lives."

Integra sighed, glancing around and clucking her horse forward, "Do not assume of anything I would mind, especially on matters in which you were not present."

"Apologies, my Lady." The guard bowed and refrained from saying anything further.

Her servants rushed to her aid as the caravan finally landed in the stables, unpacking everything and organizing it all in a frenzy.

"Please, my Lady, let us collect everything. You must make your arrival known to Lord Vladislav II," Ana reached for Integra's saddlebags and shooed the other flustered servants away, "We will guard everything with our lives. Fear not," she stated in a low voice and smiled, "Now, go and demand why we were not received politely and correctly by the Lord himself."

Integra nodded, abandoning her compulsion to watch over everything, "I will." She cleared her throat and Vlad appeared conveniently, "Sir Vlad, would you accompany me to the hall and find out just why we were not recognized upon entrance?"

Vlad bowed, "I would call it an honor to see you tear this man to shreds on account of his lack of formality, but you must understand something first."

Integra felt her impeccable posture tighten slightly. She never appreciated when he would tell her she did not know the entire situation. It challenged her competence, and that was one of her sensitive temper points.

"Alright. Go on." She walked towards him after ordering Walter to stay and help the servants. He hesitantly complied with unspoken resentment.

Vlad held out his arm for her and watched her take it without pause. This pleased him greater than he thought the simple act would.

"We are currently located on a border province. These areas whose borders touch the enemy are in constant contact with them. These places do not have the advantage of being densely populated like the heartland of the Kingdom of Hungary with sheer numbers and brute force on its side. While one might be used to the greater safety that is inland from the borders, along the outskirts the fighting is quite different. The battles are not just battles, but a struggle to continue existing as a province. And if that is not enough, the whole system is rife with duplicity."

The pair walked up the steps and into the hall with a sure step. The doors opened to a rugged environment much less gaudy than the tapestries of the Hunyad Castle. It was furs, wool blankets and thick, wiry rugs with clumps of dirt littered everywhere. There was no red, no blue, and no color at all. Integra was astonished by how much she appreciated the modesty in its decor. It may have been less showy, but that lent it and air of honesty that was impermeable to the temptation of being ostentatious in its new, up-and-coming notice. The throne room itself was dark, cold, and unforgiving in its manner, much like the Lord ruling it who was not on his throne awaiting their arrival.

Integra's lips curled up into a snarl at his rudeness. "So you excuse the Lord's timely absence as acceptable?"

"On the premise that he might be out there fighting right now based on our proximity to the enemy?" Vlad smiled at her knowingly for a pause, "I think a Lady can find it in her heart to forgive a Lord's tardiness, especially when she remembers that his province's borders kiss the Ottoman's."

Integra almost felt a chill pass by her on cue when she felt Vlad's arm flex as they ventured further in, trying to hunt down a manservant to fetch Lord Vladislav II. No one was anywhere to be found. Vlad stopped her gingerly as they approached the corner. Noticing their proximity to the throne for the first time, he inhaled deeply, which almost caused Integra to inquire.

"This…I think we should wait here before we are caught snooping around. Though we are innocently searching for the Lord, I doubt he would take one look at me and believe it."

Integra noticed he was beginning to gravitate towards the throne with temptation, "Sir Vlad," she tugged on him slightly and his focus was brought back to her instantly...mostly.

"It was mine, Integra. This whole province," he murmured, "I had it in my grasp, and I let it slip through my fingers. But, no more," Vlad let go of her arm and turned to face her, leaving his back to the grand seat, "My Lady, when the time comes, you cannot hold me back."

"From Lord Vladislav II?" she uttered with jeer, "Sir Vlad, that is why the regent sent me in the first place. It was to make sure that you two did not kill one another."

"I swore. I took a vow—"

"To rid the world of Islam, not one Christian man," she dismissed him too quickly.

"That one man murdered my father and my elder brother!" he broke into a shout and did not care to control it. She shouldn't dare insult his dignity or sense of honor, especially when they touch upon his family. "If I cannot avenge them, then what use am I to exterminate the entire religion of Islam?!"

"You are so dramatic," she insulted again, this time eliciting a growl from him that caused her to face his repressed, murderous rage she had not taken seriously beforehand. Integra paused, unsure what had overcome her to be so insensitive, "…You serve nothing and no one by following your family into the earth, which is exactly what you will be doing if you attempt to kill this Lord."

"I have to try, else my life and all its meaning are forfeit."

She disagreed, whispering out her answer, as she could expose herself to all who heard such treason, "You cannot avenge your family from the grave, Sir Vlad. This is not the man I know. The man I know would concoct a devious plan, he would sit in the shadows until his entire orchestrated plot was ready to unfold and then wait for—"

"Wait? I've waited six painful years to exact justice! Come the moment of truth, and you want me to WAIT?" Vlad forced himself to pace tightly around to avoid the alternative of thrashing her. His eyes were ablaze with conflict as he laughed in disbelief.

Integra returned him with an icy, emotionless stare, "Little do you know of how patient Death can be. Let your head calm and your Reason return," her eyes then alight with pride, "And if that is not good enough for you, then I order you not to kill him. You remember you are indebted to serve me, yes?"

"That shan't be necessary, my Lady," a theatrical voice carried over the dead room.

Integra froze, as did Vlad.

Lord Vladislav II appeared from the corner of the room and, instead of making his way to them in person, he tastelessly took the steps to his throne two-by-two and plopped himself down into it, smugly watching Vlad's hateful expression. The Lord stroked the fine leather cushions with possession and motioned for his army of guards into the room, now watching gleefully at Vlad's reaction to the formidable meat shield in his way of avenging his murdered family.

Integra took this pause to measure the Lord's resolve. He was a stern, nearly middle-aged looking fellow with a shrewd face, a bushy moustache that danced up and down his mouth with each word, and scanning chocolate brown eyes that saw plots scheming against him every which way he looked. Aside from his receding hairline and aged skin, he was fit underneath his clothing, and though his outwardly, somewhat disheveled appearance may have made him look less than harmful, Integra sensed he was no fool.

It had been many years since she had lat seen him, but, by the looks of it, Wallachia had changed him significantly in the relatively short amount of time he had been ruling over it.

Integra stepped in between both men quickly as she noticed Vlad begining to inch forward, "My Lord, I am glad you are well. I am—"

Lord Vladislav II waved a dismissing hand as he chuckled, "Spare me the formalities; there is no time to exchange pleasantries, my dear. I know who you are."

She paused, aggravated that he had verbally shoved her off of the conversation's sure footing, "I have the documents to show that I am envoy to the regent, Lord János Hunyadi, and for the duration of my stay is Lord Vladislaus III Dracula at my side," she motioned back at Vlad who was staring as blankly as he could ahead of him. Vlad did not bow on cue.

The Lord smiled mockingly down at him from his high seat, "Tell me, Vlad, doesn't one have to claim ownership of property, obtain vassals, subjects, servants, and swear fealty to the ruling king in order to own the appellation of 'Lord'?"

Vlad controlled his shaking voice, "Among other things, yes. I—"

"Tell me, how many of those have you obtained?" Vladislav II interrupted the incoming retort.

Integra thought quickly to maintain the floor, "My Lord, he is advisor to Lord János Hunyadi and has been for months. He has provided my father with invaluable information, aided my brother, Lord Ladislaus Hunyadi, in several uprisings while also personally saving his life from being murdered by assassins, and has never once given us suspicion as to where his allegiances lie, which is to say that this is more than most lords can say they have accomplished in their lifetimes. At the risk of speaking out of turn —you must forgive me— but he did not come for your entertainment, and nor did I. In order for this to work, both sides must cooperate."

He considered her words for a moment, but his scowl appeared sooner than hoped. It was clear he grouped Integra with Vlad before believing she was his ally. "And why, exactly, did the regent send you, my Lady? So that you could watch my every move on how I am using his reinforcements he so _generously_ had provided me? I fear I am putting them to _great waste_, don't you see?" his acidic and sarcastic tone matched his grandiose gesture around the vacant room, aside from his guests and personal guards, "I am afraid they are all out in the field sacrificing their lives so the regent can have his meals uninterrupted at night. If you deigned to inform him, you might tell him I am in dire need of more troops daily, especially now that the rest of the Hungarian Lords have decided to burrow themselves into a cave rather than face the Ottoman onslaught. You wish to report something? Report _that_."

Integra absorbed ever hostile word and realized that he identified and accused her as one of the upper-crust, snobbish nobility who preferred to stay ignorant of all the troubles that now threatened their lands. "I am not here to judge, my Lord. I am here to observe and to offer my diplomatic services as Lady of the regent's court in your house."

His boisterous laughter sent her nerves straight to the cutting board. "Good lord, János really has trained you well. You were just a wee little girl last I saw you," he clapped his hands in amusement, as if he were applauding a circus act, "Shall I show you to your room?"

Integra inhaled shakily and closed her eyes for a moment. Underestimating her intellectual powers was not in his best favor. Believing she had not changed and was the same child who didn't understand or comprehend her surroundings was flatly insulting. But worst of all? Dismissing her entirely and equating her to a maid. That was unconscionable.

Integra swiftly opened her eyes and slammed her foot on the ground, causing all of the guards to flinch and the Lord to return his undivided attention to her, "That is _enough_! My Lord, I will not stand here and be taken for the fool. I will not allow you to batter me with insults, nor will I condone it for Sir Vlad. This back-and-forth childish banter is tasteless, unscrupulous, immoral, and unethical. I'd expect such regressing action from a taproom in a tavern, not from the highborn Lord of a province. Now, we will _all_ comply with what my father wishes. I will be well-informed of any orders that are given to you, Lord Vladislav II, and _you will obey them_, by my diplomatic powers or otherwise," she paused to smile disturbingly to make an even stronger point, "It would not be conducive to your good health to incur my wrath, for I represent my father."

One loyal guard straightened stiffly, "No one threatens His Lordship in the presence of his guard!"

"I am not threatening the Lord-Regent of Wallachia, I am educating a man of his sworn fealty to my father," Integra calmly called behind her, "Sir Vlad, the next time this guard speaks, out of turn I might add since I did not address him, kill him," she turned her attention back to the enraged guard, "_That_ was a threat. See the difference?"

Lord Vladislav II slowly rose from his seat with purpose, locking eyes with Integra and seemingly noticing that she was a fully matured Lady for the first time, he bowed deeply and respectfully. Rising, he donned an expression of awe and wistful amusement, "My, you _are_ your father incarnate, my Lady. Perhaps all that and more. You are your entire father and then some. Forgive me, I had long forgotten what that felt like—some competence in the room for a change."

.•*´¨`*•.

Seras tore through the guards like butter as she determinedly shoved passed and to her brother's quarters. Pushing the double doors with all of her might, Seras flung herself into the room with and incredulous expression accompanied with wide eyes of astonishment as she gasped. Pip stood above Ladislaus with his mouth slightly ajar as well. It couldn't be true, could it? It had been so long since anyone had reported Ladislaus even twitching. He was simply watched every hour of the day to make sure his chest rose and fell with his heartbeat, but this? Could it have been a miracle? Could God have finally answered her prayers?

Silently, Seras made her way to Pip's side and tugged onto his shoulder sleeve. The words didn't come to her at first.

"He…are you sure?"

Pip nodded, "Oui, I'm not lying, but I wanted to make sure that I wasn't seeing things first."

Seras hesitated for a moment, bending over slightly to will her hand to touch Ladislaus when she heard a groan from inside the covers.

"There's no…need to trouble yourself. I…am awake…dear s-sister." The owner of the voice burrowed through the covers and found an opening to pop his head out.

"LADISLAUS!" Seras screamed, her entire body collapsing onto the bed as she melted into a puddle of thankful tears, kissing his hands.

He moaned at the sudden weight displacement but shakily found the strength to pull the covers off of himself bit by bit. Looking his mangled body over, he swallowed hard and let his eyes drift away to some point in the distance.

Pip had already sent word for the regent immediately, though from Seras's reaction, it was hard to believe the regent needed a message. People in the dungeons had probably heard her.

"How long?" Ladislaus asked with some difficulty. His voice was worse than raspy. It crackled and gave out at every vowel, and he strained from the pain of its lack of use. Every time he spoke, though sparingly, it felt like the insides of his throat were being massaged by a cheese grater.

Seras glanced at Pip and reluctantly answered, "A month and two and a half weeks."

He paused to let the weight of the duration sink into his mind, trying not to waste energy laughing as Seras poked him with her index finger to make sure he was real, "I would ask how everyone else is, but from your...your troubled expressions I can tell that I've missed a great deal."

Pip and Seras's expression darkened even more. The Lady exchanged a glance with the knight; how on earth would they inform him of all that had happened since he had gone under? How could they tell him that one assassin slipped through the castle walls and nearly assassinated everyone, some of whom were still being treated by the apothecary? How could they begin to tell him that the culprits were two untouchable Lords on whom they had dwindling evidence, and witnesses whose testimonies diminished the instant Vlad and Integra had left? Not only were they dead in the water, but they had no concrete evidence to place the two culprits facing the gallows, anyway.

Then there was informing him —as delicately as they could— that Integra was off with Vlad in Wallachia, effectively placing her on the battlefront.

How could they core-dump all that into words?

"S-Seras?" Ladislaus sensed some great weight was bearing on her shoulders, "What has happened?"

.•*´¨`*•.

Anyone notice the quote from Game of Thrones?

Joffrey: You can't talk to me like that. The King can do as he likes!  
>Tyrion: The Mad King did as he liked. Has your uncle Jamie ever told you what happened to him?<br>Ser Meryn: No one threatens His Grace in the presence of the Kingsguard!  
>Tyrion: I am not threatening the king, I am educating my nephew. *Looks over his shoulder* Bronn, the next time Sir Meryn speaks, kill him. *Turns back* <em>That<em> was a threat. See the difference?

^.^ P(imp). Love him.

Okay, I could have made that scene longer, but I didn't want to condense a whole month's worth of material into a conversation with Ladislaus, which only would have served to make him furious.

To**FuryanDemoness19**: He will not be a vampire for quite some time, I think.

To **Aen Silver Fire**: Bleugh, don't tell your uncle about this story. Half the time I don't even get the names straight, let alone the titles. I'm amazed that I haven't gotten more flames for screwing it up. Every Hungarian and Romanian reader prolly hates me by now on some level. Maybe just disdainfully looking down upon me. I'm shocked at their silence, and the ones who have reviewed actually enjoy it. I mean. Just. Wat.

It's hard, though. The US never really needed to learn about titles and feudal medieval-kinds of lifestyles. We were born waaay after it, and we completely cut the cord after the whole revolution against Britain as our mum…although one does have to remark the intense fandom Dowton Abbey has received here in the States, but even that's sometimes a stretch and colored more contemporary when compared to feudal/medieval/dark ages period.

Actually, would you be surprised if I told you I am a bumbling idiot when it comes to speaking words? I ramble on and on and it takes me a while to even figure out what I'm trying to say. At least a couple of sentences. But on paper? I'm unstoppable. I can edit, reword, cut and paste, delete…it's wonderful. Once I say something, I can't take it back; it's final. So trust. When I first write these chapters, it's a mess. You're looking at the final product, the perfected product…after hours of toiling over it. So it better damn well look impressive, if a bit long-winded at the corners.

To **hellsingfan101**: Indeed! And she will have to work hard to keep them from going at each other's throats…if it wasn't already quite obvious from this chappie already :3

To **Soul93**: Is it sad that I originally wanted to do it that way? Haha although, what stopped me was the fact that the regent had a disposable army and a grudge against Vlad just waiting to be satisfied. All he had to do was plow down to Wallachia, slice Vlad's head off, and take Integra back if she had run away. The only thing in his way would have been the weather. It was implausible to do it that way, no matter how much the little kid in me wanted it to be.

**KamiSama:** Let me know if there is anything incorrect about the descriptions of the cities. (Of course taking into account that this is medieval times, so it won't look like how it is today). Remember, I've researched, but I've never been there. There IS a difference hehe :)


	27. Lethal Persuasion

**A/N:** Poor Seras and Pip. They have not been forgotten.

Ladislaus...Nerve damage.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, Thorin Oakenshield! That's right. Name's Richard Armitage. Black beanie knows what's up.

In this pic, he's playing the role of Sir Guy of Gisborne. (It's pronounced 'Gisbon', for all the Americans out there like me who have a notorious habit of articulation. Don't be shy, now).

Chapter subject to change.

Oh, and this chapter's title is dedicated to Seras, Integra, and Rip as they all three use their lethal powers of persuasion to convince people of things.

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Lethal Persuasion

Seras couldn't remember the last time she had seen her father cry. It had been so long since she saw a sparkle of hope in his eyes, but as he rocked Ladislaus's head back and forth like the first moments when he was a baby, that sparkle came back. It was the most beautiful sight to see as father and son embraced, for both had thought they never would again. The entire castle and villages beyond celebrated his awakening. Like a phoenix reborn, Ladislaus rose from what all surely thought would be his deathbed, and was improving each day by leaps and bounds. He need a cane, just as one was given to Vlad. Ladislaus would say it was a 'beautifully hand-crafted crutch', as often as he would refuse to use it. He wanted to gain his power back without the help of a pretty ornament; on his own merit.

Unfortunately, though Ladislaus could walk and sit and stand on his own by the end of a few days, he still could not feel the texture of things as clearly as before. He lost some form of sensation in nearly every fingertip and toe, which, according to Zargo's fascinated expression as he went about his tests, was to be expected. In fact, the castle apothecary was stunned that his extremities were not damaged in greater detail.

Though Zargo was readily available to continue his follow up tests on Ladislaus, whenever Pip tried to summon the man, or Costel for that matter, both would make up some fictitious lie about being too busy or concerning themselves with some pressing matter that had to be solved that day and not a day later. Convincing them to step forward about what they had seen was no easier. That was when Pip went to Ladislaus.

Upon dumping a world of information onto the newly awakened noble, he demanded to know every minute detail, however irrelevant it seemed. After each walking lesson, Ladislaus was granted a few moments alone with Seras and Pip, in which time they would continue discussing what had happened. It was often that they would have to repeat things multiple times in order for it to sink in to Ladislaus's conscience as the true reality. He would sit on his bed in silence and let Pip walk him through the steps of what had happened nearly each afternoon for three days. In the short, brief moments where Ladislaus would say a sentence or two, Seras was able to gauge how far he could be tipping over the precipice of sanity. There were times where she and Pip both wondered if he was going to fall off the ledge and plunge into the depths of insanity. His mind certainly had more than enough material to do so.

Seras tried to imagine her entire world flipped upside-down throughout the few days that Ladislaus hardly spoke a word. Whether it was truly taxing for him to say long sentences or not, Seras knew he was refraining from blowing his lid. She tried to grasp the idea of hearing for the first time that her entire family was almost killed, that the culprits were in the dungeon and not hanging by their ankles, that Integra was with the man he both loathed and respected the most, and that somehow two respected Lords were the true criminals of this entirely orchestrated scheme.

Pip had assured Seras that Ladislaus would help them gain back Costel and Zargo as witnesses. The regent remained a liability until the group could prove to him that Lord Ulrich of Eczing and Lord Ulrich of Celje were guilty, and, until there was a point in time when they could present convincing evidence to their leader, they may as well cater to suspicion.

Seras awoke from her reverie and adjusted her hem as she continued to sit uneasily through Ladislaus's silence.

"So, you see, my Lord, that was why Sir Vlad, myself, Costel and Zargo stayed our hand. We did not want to stop the two Lords from rescuing the Prince. He needs to be rescued from the jaws of Lord Frederick," Pip explained for the fourth time. There was no evident exasperation in his voice, just patience.

Ladislaus swallowed again, feeling his dry throat stick to its own walls before opening the airway again. He nodded, and something from the way he nodded made Seras guess it had finally sunken in; all the explaining had hopefully paid off.

The Lord meekly reached for his glass of water and inhaled deeply, "I…appreciate you informing me of everything…Sir."

"You're most welcome, my Lord," Pip spoke within the silence to ensure Ladislaus had a moment to soothe his throat again.

Seras caught on, "Father, no doubt, has his own version of what has happened. But you mustn't tell him of the truth just yet. He is unpredictable, and we cannot corner him with such treason without expecting to back it up. That is why we must have evidence to support our claim."

"And that is where your…your two witnesses come in…" Ladislaus practiced wiggling his fingers and toes during the morning's daily exercise.

"Precisely."

Seras nodded as well, "But we cannot seem to cajole Costel and Zargo into approaching father with what they've seen."

"Just as well," Pip reasoned, "Once your father realizes that you, my Lord, are convinced that Costel and Zargo are telling the truth, he'll listen. Hearing it from one knight and his daughter may be less convincing."

Ladislaus nodded warily, "I would lend more credence to the truth of the situation than either you or Seras. The only problem is that father would know you had fed me this information, since I clearly didn't obtain and witness it on my own. He would think you both were filling my head with lies and tales."

"Would he?" Seras questioned as she stood up from the plush seat, "Think on it, Lazlo. We are not feeding information that the regent wants to hear; quite the opposite. We are approaching him with treason, not a light matter that a Lord-Regent ever wants to hear during his reign. The very presentation of it would be so blasphemous that father would not be able to ignore it. All we need is you to help present the information. Once father sees that you believe us, then he will have to investigate and hopefully come to the same conclusion we have." She suddenly noticed Pip staring at her with a gaze of admiration.

"You're taking to this like a duck to water, my Lady," the knight noted.

"Pardon?" she asked, and for a moment, Ladislaus was forgotten.

Pip's earnestness evaporated, "This…whatever this is. I like it. This investigatory side to you I never knew existed. You are channeling your inner constabulary. Hell, I should put you on the knights' watch around the town to help enforce Law."

Seras beamed back at him, "Only if you would allow me a ranged weapon."

"Oh, I'll give you a ranged weapon," he replied haughtily, "You do have one currently at your disposal, you coy minx—"

Ladislaus coughed his frustration. Growling would chafe his throat too harshly, "Oh, for God's sake, Sir. Curb your tongue before I slice it off."

Both blinked and watched the mirage of a vacant room crumble before their eyes as both remembered Ladislaus was present. Seras blushed as she mentally chastised herself. Her cheeks began to burn under the icy scrutiny of her older brother.

"Apologies, my Lord." Pip's voice sounded mechanical, as if having to say it daily squeezed all of the sincerity out of it.

Ladislaus surged upward from his sitting position on his bed with frightful force, anger at Pip's outburst fueling his inner ire, "I will investigate this alone. Your presence may sway them into unpredictability since they do not want to approach the regent. If I approach them, a neutral third party when compared to you two, then their answers may be different. If both men confide in me the same truth you have told me, then I will force—not cajole—them into presenting what they know to the regent."

"Thank you, my Lord." Pip bowed gracefully, though still too shallowly. Seras smiled; he still needed some practice on that.

.•*´¨`*•.

Integra had taken an instant liking to the city. Winter's chill was slowly giving way to spring's rain. The lovely fur coats given to her at Vladislav's order were most welcomed and needed. She was treated not with kindness and generosity, but at least with respect, which spoke volumes, even if both the Lord and the regent were not on the best of terms.

That was why Integra made it her duty to relay information from Vladislav II to her father as soon as it came in. She ordered a page to follow her like a little shadow whose job it was to transmit information around the camps, and a messenger to carry out vital information across the actual borders of the towns and ride all the way to Castle Hunyad, if need be.

Her presence and domineering aura demanded an order about her that few men tried to take away. She was feared and respected by even her Lord's subjects and vassals, though she hardly conceded her matters with them, the obsequious lot. She was much more frugal than that. Integra appealed to the commanders in order, or to Lord Vladislav II himself. There was no need to trifle with the other Sirs and knights and Ladies when she could mainline her desires straight into Vladislav II. Why get the run-around from a group of bootlicking grovelers when she could focus all her powers of persuasion on one man: their leader?

Most days, Vladislav II would give her what she wished, though Integra could tell he truly hated her. The young Lady's very presence undermined his authority, and being trumped by her impressive diplomatic powers only proved to be that much more humiliating when he would retract from a conversation with Integra, baffled and confused as to how he ended up bending his knee. The days when his commanders were present in the room were truly intolerable. The only reason why he allowed Integra into the room to even hear what was being said was that she had decreed it to be so.

It was humiliating to watch his officers sit, entertained and thoroughly amused that he was schooled by a woman over tactics and strategy, and his nerves were wearing thing…very thin.

Integra was taking too quickly to a life without much supervision from her parents, and with such glee. The freedom away from her home was intoxicating, and she found herself on the receiving end of much of Vladislav's hatred for it.

"I'm telling you, my Lord, you must put all auxiliary forces to east to Calarasi. The Ottomans will strike the border there again. The forces west at Dristra are protected enough. My father has already dispatched more men to the front there." Integra paced back and forth throughout their equivalent of a 'map room', watching with smug satisfaction that the commanders would move out of her way as she weaved through them. Her power almost took over to distraction.

Vladislav II crumpled up the piece of paper he read, "What, because of this notice that said he would? My Lady, this paper claims nothing other than the fact that he will get to it when he gets to it. I've sent hundreds of letters to him imploring his troops closer to me, and the most he can do is send a company of men—on _average_."

Integra rolled back on her heels, "You are wondering why I am so confident."

"Well, that for starters, _yes_," he replied condescendingly, sharing a glance with Vlad that communicated their shared exhaustion with her headstrong determinedness.

She smiled, "Because you are not my father's daughter. Because my father is no fool, and when I say that we need something, he gives it to me. Not only that, but his eldest daughter is on the border now, and he will endeavor to keep her as safe as possible."

"Don't think that because you are his daughter that he will willingly give up his forces to be under my command, my Lady. Pride is a sin."

"Yet you carry it in spades," she retorted dangerously. She saw his jaw twitch and Vlad's upturn into a smile.

The Lord chuckled, "Too much lip, child. Too much lip." He forced himself to feign a smile as he turned to his officers, shunning Integra in the process, "Men, you all know that our forces at Calarasi are abundant in number. From last week's incursion at Dristra, I say we replenish the ranks there."

Some officers nodded, but to his astonishment, others hesitated.

"My Lord," one such hesitant officer began, "the Lady Integra's point carries weight. Calarasi is alarmingly close to the Danube River, the arterial network through which much of our resources pulse. If the Ottomans take that strong-point…"

Integra interrupted, "They have told me of sightings of an entire regiment of Ottoman troops gathering along the border there in high concentration. It would be wise to mobilize our soldiers in that direction," she smiled with lethal charm, "my _Lord_."

Vladislav II swiveled to his officers in a rage, "And I suppose one of you dullards was going to realize that _I_ am your Lord-Regent and leader of this force! Who was going to remember this and inform_ me_?!"

The men looked around anxiously, calculating how egregious their mistake had been in informing Integra first. Some donned the expression of disbelief. Either way, Lord Vladislav II was advancing toward them so threateningly that backward steps were unconsciously taken to gain a semblance of space. Vlad, though on the edge of the room bordering the door, glanced concernedly at Integra. She did not catch his apprehension that she was dancing incredibly close to his dignity, or, rather, by now probably _on_ his dignity.

"Listen to your officers, my Lord. Their news, whether or not it reached me first, is true. Any time we waste here is wasted time in getting to our destination to Calarasi," Integra tried to divert the Lord's fury from his men.

Unfortunately, it swiftly focused onto her.

Vladislav II felt his hand tear the paper in half, only now realizing he'd wished it was the girl's neck, "Were you any other woman, I'd have you flogged for speaking out of turn and for insisting them to tell you first. They come to _me_, they answer to _me_, they take orders from _me_," his voice grew louder to remind his officers, "Where, in that specific sentence, did you hear _your_ name?" he waved his hand rudely in front of her face when she inhaled to answer, "That I let you into this room _at all_ should be considered a blessing on your part, yet for days you undermine my authority and try to usurp the throne, going so far as to order me around to do your bidding. No self-respecting Lady would ever disrupt was isn't hers. A true Lady is of so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it close in her goodness not to do more than she is requested." There was hope in his face that this hint he so chivalrously pointed out would be taken to heart by the refined Lady Integra. Predictably, though, she shut him down once more.

Integra grinned maliciously, "And I suppose I'm expected to simper and curtsy as you please, cater to your every whim, emulate self-restraint, lower my eyes demurely, and weakly fall into a man's arms at the reports that come in of the survivors?"

Vladislav II did her the courtesy of answering, though he was inching toward her, reminded that his hope was far-fetched. He was beginning to see that a more drastic measure needed to be taken in order to subjugate her. "That would be a good start, my Lady. It is not seemly for a woman to involve herself in such manly pursuits as war. Your father may have lent you his ear, but your daddy is not here, last I checked."

She let the insult and threat ride off her shoulders. "I will not allow my purpose here to be entirely decorative, my Lord. You see, I prefer function over fashion. Indeed, it may be _fashionable_ to mimic repression and play the meek Lady, just as it may be _fashionable_ to surround oneself with the mindless nattering of complacent 'yes' men, but I am _functioning_ quite fine within the constricting boundaries given to me."

"Boundaries!" Vladislav II cried out, "Madness! What boundaries?! Integra, you have broken every one of them!"

Integra, once more goaded to the point of risking her life, answered him with withering condemnation. "Good thing, too, for I will not wilt under any man's disdainful preconception of who I should be, whether he is a Lord-Regent who plays at a warfare the way children play with tin soldiers, or—" she was not able to finish her insult back to him before he interrupted her.

"You think I am all bluster and no threat? Such as it is, _this_ will have to do." He stepped forward with alarming surety and slapped her savagely across the face.

Her head snapped back as the report of his hand echoed throughout the room and his signet cut her cheek, leaving a thin smear of blood on the back of his hand. Swearing an obscenity, he struck her again, causing her to stagger under the blow and blindly, reflexively dodge the next. But the next strike did not come. When she whirled around, eyes wildly searching for a shield or a weapon to protect herself, they focused on the changing scenery before her. Vlad's body was suddenly and protectively in between her and the repugnant Lord. Vlad's sword was unsheathed as well, daring a challenge and a duel out of Vladislav II at the very least. Vlad's rage was barely bridled and his arm was becoming less and less responsive to his reason. Integra knew that it would only be seconds before either Vlad plunged his sword into the Lord, or vice versa. She shouted an inarticulate cry, only realizing a second later that it was his name.

"_VLAD!_"

His body tensed in recognition. She stood up hastily and rushed to his side, soothingly placing her hand on his arm, "Sir Vlad, I am _alright_. I am _here_. Please, stay your hand." Her eyes glistened with ripened but unshed tears from the pain that was still pulsating in her cheek.

Vlad's vision subdued from the intensity of a reddish haze, and he started to focus on her warm touch as her fingers traced and lingered along his forearm suggestively, distractingly. But when he noticed the bruising on her face already forming and its corresponding trail of blood beading down her alabaster-smooth skin, his grip tightened on his sword once more, emotions battling between killing the one man who had murdered his family, who now had also struck his maiden down, and sparing his life for some undefined reason Integra would not say. Worse still, the same seductive voices he heard on the outskirts of Bagamér with Ladislaus had returned. The sight of her blood had triggered them once more, and he found himself both leaning in and repelling away from her. As if sensing Vlad needed more encouragement, but oblivious to the fact that he felt a sudden compulsion to consume her, she brought her other hand to his neck and forced him to look down at her and lock eyes.

"_Vlad, come back_," she whispered. Were it not for the human desperation in her voice at her need for his sanity to return, the tip of his blade would have met its mark in an instant, and so would have his mouth. But she needed him alive, not dead. And the time for his family's vindication was not yet, nor was this the time to indulge a deranged feeling he didn't fully understand.

Vlad felt his arm relax as her genuine smile captivated him. She was swelling with pride and happiness. It took him a moment to realize that she was relieved and proud of _him_ as he sheathed his sword with reluctance, but compliance. Vlad's hand met hers on his neck and let his thumb furtively stroke her knuckles, quickly departing contact.

Vladislav II nodded with condescension, as if he solely put both of them in their rightful place using only his impermeable virtue. "And YOU, Vlad, you mangy scrap of pit-bait, I don't want to see her out of her room for the next week. She has caused enough disruption to our equilibrium, and so have you."

All he could manage to do was nod —not at Vladislav II, but at Integra. His eyes were still locked on hers. They slowly walked out of the room, Vlad's hand protectively on the small of her back as they exited gratefully. As the pair walked silently in the night to their respective chambers —they hardly ever had to communicate with words now— Vlad realized something. In that heated moment of limbo where he could have easily slit Vladislav's throat, could have taken on a few of his officers and then died gladly for it, Vlad realized that he truly loved Integra. Her mere voice curbed his creeping insanity. He must have held her in such a high regard that even his own desires to kill were not fully sated until they passed her consent. He was completely at her mercy, and her at his. She needed him alive on the border to ensure her safety just as much as he needed her to rein him back. Integra was the only thing in the way of his mind unraveling. Unfortunately, that ugly side to him was also Integra's to wield at her leisure, though she did not dare tap into that power source just yet.

.•*´¨`*•.

Anderson rubbed the stubble of his scruffy chin, anxious with fervent passion to exterminate the new threat within the castle. Predictably, the esoteric letter from the Pope warning him came late, but it hardly mattered now. The Teutonic Knights were now on his territory, and he had one more thing to kill in the name of preserving Christendom. They masqueraded around pretending to uphold Christian Law and Literature, but Anderson had known of this notorious Herr Major and his lackeys for some time. The question was: How powerful were they, and were they really appointed to the post at Castle Hunyad for the same reason that the papacy had placed him?

"Too many unanswered questions," Anderson muttered, then swiftly unsheathed three holy daggers from the folds of his cloak and viciously turned around with them pointedly touching Lady Rip's neck.

She smiled, "Didn't see me coming, did you?"

Anderson remarked at how she did not even flinch over the fact that all three blades were in contact with her skin. They must have tweaked her, or perhaps made her immune. Either way, he found himself snarling as a response.

"I could answer some ov those tantalizing unanswered qvestions, my Lord," she stated in a low, seductive voice that played with his emotions.

"Your mere presence gives you away, vile Heathen," he sheathed his blades, but not before nicking her neck on their way back into his robes. To his meek satisfaction, she flinched, though the act didn't leave her in pain. In fact, she looked aroused from his blatant invitation to play. "I know why you have come."

"Herr Major vas bound to find out, just as the Pope did. The only difference vas that you failed, mein adversary. The Teutonic Knights vill not," Rip sauntered around Anderson in a circle, not forgetting to reveal more and more skin during each rotation around.

Anderson followed her eyes, but didn't dare look anywhere else, "Your lot were banned from the Teutonic Knights. You cannot possibly make me believe that an Order as highly respected as the Knights would allow such blasphemous tempering with humanity. What you and yours do is sacrilegious."

"Perception ist everything, isn't it? Vhy not let the testing und budding science ov what ve've done speak on its own merit?" she whispered in his ear, overcome at the proximity of his thick neck and inner network of arteries.

"Because you train MONSTERS! ABOMINATIONS! DEMON SPAWN! I don't care what you call them! They are the un-living incarnate of Death Himself!" Anderson whirled on his heels and jutted all six of his holy daggers in her general direction, three in each finger-space like knuckle claws. She dodged them expertly.

Rip was weak with laughter when she finally replied, "Oh, you are exhilarating, my Lord, but ve really must pass this foreplay. Celibacy dos not suit you, und I could use some vild entertainment tonight." She provoked him further by leaning onto him back-to-back and moaning in delight at the prospect of potent pleasure from such forbidden fruit.

He flinched as he felt her lewd pose against his regrettably thin cloak, but easily, surprisingly, managed to expel the thought from his mind. No, he was far stronger than temptation; than carnal lust; than the weak and detrimental love for another imperfect being. The only pure love was that of God. This monstrosity would not have her way with him or his plan, and she certainly would not succeed in retrieving what she had come to obtain.

Anderson peeled Rip from himself and shook his head, "Your otherwise lethal persuasion and womanly wiles do not affect me, my Lady," he paused for dramatic effect, "There will come a day when you will answer for all of the heinous crimes you have committed, and I swear to you that on that day your power will wilt and your faith in monsters will be your undoing, for the next time you see me it will be down the blade of my sword."

She clapped delightedly at the thought, "Your patience does you credit. I look forvard to our next meeting. Perhaps it vill truly be _one-on-one._" Rip winked and curtsied, taking her leave, but not before sensing Anderson's chest deflate unceremoniously as she turned her back.

.•*´¨`*•.

If you're confused and intrigued, then good. Your curiosity will be sated come the next chapters!

Been kinda down in the dumps these past two weeks from some stuff, but this chapter is pretty righteous, right?

I'm trying to look at it objectively here :|


	28. Trapped with a Way Out

**A/N:** Wow. Okay. I'm back after so _very_ long.

I took a leave of absence due to a torn ACL that occurred the day after my birthday (greatest present evaaar!). For those of you who do not know, once one's ACL is torn it is torn for life and does not heal. It is not a muscle, it is not populated with many cells that could aid in its reconstruction, it is a _ligament_ that ties your leg's bones together. People can survive without their ACLs, but my knee was, of course, especially loose and naturally hyper-extends, which means I am a loosely-jointed person.

_(Curious to see if you qualify? Bend your thumb forward until it touches your wrist. If you can do that, folks, it means you may be more susceptible to injuries like mine. Congrats!)_.

After 6 weeks of physical therapy, it did not improve so I made an appointment for some yummy arthroscopic surgery. Now, laying in my bed completely incapacitated, I realize all the free time that just presented itself to me. Or what's left of it, anyway, now that classes have started. Fortunately, I'm waited on hand-and-foot by the most caring, wonderful, and doting boyfriend.

Oi, Chris, I said NO SALT! TAKE IT BACK, YOU OAF! ^.^

Enjoy the next installment!

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

Trapped with a Way Out

"LIAR!" Ladislaus threw Zargo across the operation table with renewed strength he found exhilarating, pinning the aged man down and reaching for his hidden dagger, "Let's see which humor will pour out of your veins for remaining silent. Phlegm, perhaps?"

"No! Wait!" Zargo huffed and grabbed at Ladislaus's hands, wildly kicking and pushing away.

"Did you think you would successfully evade Justice? Did you think you could philander with impunity without the consequences of what you've done hanging above you like the Sword of Damocles?" Ladislaus reached for his dagger and pressed onto Zargo's throat.

"To tell you this would start a war between two irreconcilable parties!"

The Lord jerked him higher against the wall, "Yes, and with war comes crime. But it would be a greater crime to _do_ nothing! To _say_ nothing! Now tell me the truth, old man, or I will—"

"Or what? God will—" Zargo inhaled a shaken breath.

"_Apothecary_," Ladislaus growled, "If God has issues, it will not be with what I've done. It'll be with what I'm about to do…" he raised the dagger above the old man's neck theatrically, causing Zargo to throw up his hands in defeat.

"Alright!" the apothecary shook his head vigorously, "Y-you must understand, I was not there! I lent the book out that week!" he began to choke as the nobleman's grip collapsed his airway.

Ladislaus bared his teeth in a snarl as he lifted the man up into a sitting position with his clenched hand, choking Zargo even more by the gravity of the old man's own weight. With all the strength Ladislaus could muster, which was failing, he held his grip as his hands began to shake—with anger or exertion, he didn't know.

"On the off chance that you are not lying to save your _hide_, do you remember to whom you lent it?" Ladislaus asked, still pinning the struggling man but lifting his hand for a moment to allow him air.

"L-Lord…Lord…" Zargo hacked and tried to cover his mouth.

Ladislaus disgustedly let go with a shove, watching the apothecary collapse in a heap on the stone table and cough profusely. The nobleman stood there for a moment, considering if he should mark the man with his knife. This lay-about was the only bulwark in the way of him discerning the truth about what happened to his family. If it meant a few deaths along the way, Ladislaus knew he did not have the inhibition within to stop himself. If Zargo was the man who was, by refraining to come forward, withholding judgment from the rightful criminals, the men who had nearly destroyed Ladislaus's lineage, then it did not matter to Ladislaus what the costs would take. He would find the truth, and he would find it now. Punishment had been delayed long enough.

Within a few minutes, Zargo had composed himself and sat back up, although his skin was abnormally gray—the color to that of rotting fruit—and he flinched at Ladislaus's every move.

Taking a full and much-needed breath in, Zargo shook his head. "You would not believe it, even if I told you."

Circling impatiently and convincing himself not to stab his only witness, Ladislaus flexed his armed hand to delay it from cramping as long as possible, "Try me, old man. Keep in mind that if I am less than satisfied I will report you to my father as the culprit, or kill you myself."

Zargo closed his eyes as he swallowed, "Lord Ulrich…"

Ladislaus's jagged scowl grated into the apothecary. "_Which_."

Zargo hesitated, which caused Ladislaus to advance toward him, weapon raised once more.

"_BOTH_! Both Lord Ulrich of Eczying and Lord Ulrich, Princely Count of Celje."

Ladislaus nodded, finally overcome with exhaustion as his body crumpled inward from fatigue and sagged against the back wall for support. His face and shape suddenly looked haggard, as if it had just performed something incredibly taxing. He felt his breath uncontrollably gasp and release air, noting as Zargo realized it was all a façade. Most of it was. The anger was still pumping through Ladislaus in the form of adrenaline, but his body was wracked with pain and nausea from overexertion. The Lord smiled as Zargo pieced it together and realized it had been some sort of test. The only apprehension on the apothecary's face now belonged to the question of whether he had passed or failed whatever the test was.

"M-my Lord?"

Ladislaus gripped the wall and hoisted his tall stature back up to its normal height, "You are safe, Zargo. I spoke with Costel as well. You two will present your information to my father tonight, and not a moment later."

"My Lord, I might be killed for providing such information," Zargo nervously wringed his hands together.

Instead of frothing at the mouth and tearing the apothecary with his bare hands, Ladislaus felt overcome with tranquility. "Would it matter?"

"Wha—?"

Ladislaus pushed off the wall and grabbed Zargo by the collar, yet inner peace still ruled over his mind. He was focused now; very focused. "By withholding such a heinous act of treason, you have equated yourself to the very criminals who committed the crime. You have failed this family by allowing them to get away. I would gladly see you be the headsman's morning appointment, but you are our only apothecary. You can repent such betrayal by telling my father what you saw. By God and all my family's power and influence in the Kingdom of Hungary, you _will_ do this."

"Y-yes, my Lord. I promise. I-I give you my word," the old man's voice sunk in submission. His body sagged even lower than his companion did. Zargo let his head fall into his hands with muted despair.

Ladislaus released his strained grip and his eyes softened for a moment, remembering his first lucid thoughts, "You know, I heard everything. I heard you fretting over me as you applied all manner of poultices to me. Yes, that's right. I would have moments where I could hear what people were saying, and your comforting conversations with me helped preserve my sanity. I surely would have died, had you not tended to me with the care that you did."

"I barely kept you alive," Zargo lifted his head up and faintly smiled, "Even _I_ prayed and prayed you would return. I didn't want to leave your fate up to chance. Perhaps God smiled on my wishes that day and decided to spare you."

There was a long wistful pause before Ladislaus answered. "Whether God's hand was engaged or not, it was _your_ actions that spared me. It was not a deity who bandaged me, who fed me soft meals, who kept me hydrated, who changed my bedding and cleaned me…it was _you_."

"We did have to come up with unconventional ways to accomplish those…" Zargo mused with a bitter laugh, "Your mother had a cow when she saw us feeding you with a glass tube down your throat to get to your stomach, God forbid you aspirate and choke on the sludge and die. You could hardly _breathe_ on your own, much less be conscious to masticate food! Ha! And she thought that faith alone would bring you back. People need sustenance, woman." Mockery was well within his tone, but the noble could hardly blame him. "We men of science know it ultimately takes more than a prayer to bring someone back from the brink, and Death had a firm hand on your shoulder, boy."

"And you helped me shrug it off, and for that I am forever in your debt," Ladislaus patted the aged man on the shoulder, "And, getting to the matter at hand, I _will_ be in the room with you, affirming everything you say, if that helps."

Zargo's demeanor lightened as life came back into his eyes, "Oh. That would take the _world's_ _weight_ off of my shoulders. Thank you."

"For the man who saved my life, it is the least I can do," Ladislaus made his way to the door and paused, "Out of curiosity, where is the ledger that holds all accounts of the whereabouts of your books? We should confirm that both Lord Ulrichs were the culprits."

Zargo slid off of the table, wobbling as he made his way across the room and to a drawer at his desk. Shuffling and ruffling through a few more papers, he smiled and brought out an incredibly dull-looking and unassuming small book that was tattered around the edges. Worn and inconspicuous, Ladislaus inwardly laughed; just like its owner…very clever.

"Here," the apothecary set it on the round wooden table corresponding to his desk and flipped through the pages, stopping at two signatures and sidestepping out of the way when Ladislaus surged forward to the evidence.

The noble perused the page with rapt interest, eyes scattering across each individuals' penmanship. To Zargo's fright, Ladislaus's face suddenly lowered into a glower.

"It cannot be…"

"What is it, my Lord?"

Ladislaus forcefully unclenched his fists, blurting out in barely controlled rage, "This is the penmanship of Lord Anderson. I recognize it." He looked into Zargo's eyes with disbelief, repeating the name as if it would solidify in his mind, "Lord Anderson…"

"Lord Anderson?" Zargo gasped in both disbelief and curiosity, "What would he want with my book?"

This question breathed life into a new and treasonous idea Ladislaus hardly desired to ponder, but faced with the evidence and his observation, he had little choice. Wrapping his arms around each article, he charged out of the room to his advisor's chambers without closing the door, leaving it open much like leaving Zargo's eerie question unanswered.

.•*´¨`*•.

Smoothing out and covering the blood from his new tattered courier clothes, a small child-like figure clung to the shadows of the early evening light within the stronghold walls. His large eyes peered around every corner as he slinked down stairs and through corridors. Though his youthful face helped him in evading the guards' suspicion, he was anything but young. His mission was presented to him, and he would fulfill it.

Finally approaching his destination, he sharpened up and walked with purpose to the two sentinels standing watch at a door.

"Pardon, but my Lady Integra has received another letter from her father. I am here to deliver it."

One guard motioned to take the letter, "I'll hand it to her promptly."

The boy hesitated, "I'm sorry, but my orders from Lord Vladislaus II were to hand it to her in person."

Both men exchanged a glance of mistrust that the boy easily sensed, but he could not risk the guards investigating his lie.

"Lord Vladislaus II is currently in a meeting with his private war council. Should you interrupt now to question why he sent me, you will not only incur the wrath of his Lordship, but that of Lady Integra as well," the boy stated outright in a bold bluff.

The older of the two grunted in disapproval but nodded, letting the courier in.

A waft of perfume and scented greenery accosted his nostrils as he saw flowers on a table in the middle of the room and candles lit to the right in the one window box that provided light. Integra sat agitated in her seat next to the tiny bed with her small hands folded neatly in her lap. Her eyes focused sharply at the boy and narrowed.

"Where is my usual page and courier?" she snapped at him.

He licked his lips, consciously trying to erase any evidence, "They had a run-in with some of the hounds returning from the warfront. I'm told their trained bites are…fatal."

She groaned, "All too true. I do not know why Lord Vladislaus has need of them. He insists on using every method possible that does not involve fighting with honor, the coward."

He covered a smirk, "Perhaps it is because he does not have the men to fight honorably. Human fatality within a thinly united army is something to be avoided, no?"

Integra's face morphed from hatred to understanding, to intrigue, "You don't speak as you look. Who are you?"

He shrugged plainly, "A way out."

Integra scoffed, gesturing to her surroundings, "By ALL means, sweep me away from my dungeon of punishment. Carry me out in your strong arms and we'll ride off into the sunset together."

He approached the table slowly, not straying his intent stare, "Not that kind of way out, my Lady. Your rescue requires some finesse, methodical planning, flawless strategy, and clean execution." He let those words sink in.

This unseated Integra as she put both hands onto her desk and leveled her face to his in one slow, intimidating movement, "I'll ask once more. Who are you?"

"I would have you guess, first," he stated.

She laughed viciously from his deadpan expression but obliged. She never turned down an audience to impress, "You're either a traitor to your cause, a sellsword in it for the coin, a trained assassin on a contract, or a bloody fool. Since appearances suggest you know what you are talking about, perhaps intelligent, and a rather alarming lack of musculature, hulking 'sellsword' is out as well as a trundling fool. I would say 'assassin', but your eyes and your manor tell me I am worth more to you alive than dead."

"Perceptive," he purred. It was then that she realized his demeanor almost resembled that of a…cat? "Very perceptive. You were the brightest of all your siblings. I knew it the moment we heard the church bells ring from dawn until dusk the day you were born."

Integra felt herself slowly reach underneath the table for her knife, "Last warning: _who are you_?"

He plopped down in the seat opposite hers with a silky motion and grinned, "My name ist Shrödinger. I have a wery important mission to save you und one other here. You are in danger, my Lady, as vell as the one vith you who calls himself Sir Vlad."

_Germanic_, Integra realized, as all concealment of an accent vanished. "You are with the Order of the Teutonic Knights. I recognized the insignia my father etched for me in his latest letter. Employing your services was one of his better moves, I would hope."

Shrödinger pouted a moment, "One does not _employ_ the Teutonic Knights. Ve come of our own volition. My people are already at the Hunyadi Castle. It vas thought that you vere to be brought back vith us for safety, but instead he allowed you to join the forefront, something I am still coming to grips vith. Vhy he would risk the life of something so precious und important…"

She drew out her knife from underneath the table and whispered, "If you do not tell my why you are here, I will scream and the guards will clap you in irons."

"Easily avertible," he assured her with a feline smile, "Und unnecessary."

Her mouth floundered open and closed for more threats, but he spoke before she could think up another.

"If you vish to hear more, then you might vant to comply the rest of the veek by remaining in here. I vill arrange the rest," Shrödinger rose from his seat and bowed graciously. His head suddenly turned, as if he sensed something just outside his periphery, "I must depart before the meat-bags at your door barge in."

Angered at his manor for leaving without being dismissed, Integra stalled him by hemming and hawing, "What if my importance were to stay on the battlefront, hmm?"

He shook his head vigorously, "I promise you, your life und Sir Vlad's are reserved for something greater than _petty war_."

His voice sounded almost a transparent reflection of personal experience that Integra shuddered once he turned his back. Clearly they wanted her for something. It was when Integra realized she did not hear a door close that her nerves nearly snapped. Her eyes searched the room wildly for the way he left the room, but there was no escape hatch or trap door. She had ruled out those possibilities the first night in her room.

_How did he leave the room? _

An instant later, the guards opened her door. When confronted with a barrage of inquiries, she merely played the fool. If she was going to pursue this, everyone else had to think she did not know what was happening. If there was anything women were trained to do, it was to pretend to know nothing. Inwardly grinning, she grew more and more giddy inside as she played more and more incompetence to the men drilling her with questions.

What a mystery to solve!

.•*´¨`*•.

Okay, I'm laughing because it's been so long since I looked at my plotline that I've forgotten some things. Regardless, this chapter is going out because you all have waited long enough!

Yeeeee next chapter is going to be HEATED, to say the very least! Sorry no Integra/Vlad feels, but I have to move the plot first! The chess pieces must be aligned just right! I can't write porn all day!


	29. A Reason in Treason

**A/N:** Alrighty then! It's a quick update because I was done with this chapter too, and well, you guys are amazing with your feedback. This chapter should clear up some confusion/questions about what the hell is going on. I do have fun thinking up twists like these. I hope there aren't any holes... I'm posting it now without checking for mistakes just b/c I'm so excited to see what you guys think of the twist! Eeeeee!

*Sits over in a corner with a stool and watches you intently*

Thank you so much for the reviews! I didn't expect to get so many after such a long absence. Boundless love to the fans!

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

A Reason in Treason

The Regent took a long gulp of his mead and felt his eyes trail, unfocused on a point somewhere in the distance, passed the soft touch of his wife on his shoulder, passed the room in which he sat, passed the stronghold walls, passed the orange horizon that taunted him to leave his shackles. The map room looked so tired, he noted; so worn out; beaten and scraped, rearranged and spiked back onto the table within an inch of its life. Edges along the corner frayed long ago, the colors distinguishing the armies faded as well.

But it wasn't the current state of his dominion that slowly corroded away his mind. It was a single thought that poisoned the well; the thought of his Royal Advisor stabbing him in the back multiple times, over and over. How could a bond made in blood be tossed away like garbage? How could a friendship, which persevered through all manner of hardship that nearly crippled a kingdom, simply dissolve? Such disloyalty sickened the Regent where he sat, nearly forcing his gag reflex as he heard the unbelievable truth. Glancing to his son who delivered the news along with the two witnesses who informed that two more Lords were involved in the betrayal, the Regent sighed and sat up straighter in his seat, swirling the contents of his drink with resigned hatred and incredulity.

A week. It had taken him a full week to believe such treason, numerous meetings with his witnesses and his son leading point on the investigation, and hundreds of arguments about the validity of it all; but as the evidence piled against Lord Anderson, even the Regent could no longer ignore what had first seemed a preposterous accusation.

Ladislaus stood a few feet away, as did Seras and Pip. Unsure of the possible magnitude of their leader's temper, the three kept their distance for the time being. Standing quietly in silent anticipation for whatever was to come of this fiasco, Ladislaus threw a supporting smile to Costel and Zargo who were both clearly contemplating the nature of their deaths.

Seras felt an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder from her elder brother. Her head was about to turn and meet his eye when the two double doors that acted as the one entryway into the room opened with a loud creak.

Pip motioned for them to bring the detained forward and into the center of the room. It chilled a few degrees when Lord Anderson straightened up and faced his accusers with radical vehemence. His eyes looked absolutely fearless as he spat out a mouthful of blood, denoting powerful resistance to his imprisonment.

Without delay, the Regent started, "Lord Alexander Anderson, you have been imprisoned and detained for the accounts of several witnesses who tell me that you have conspired against your kingdom, leadership, and faith. I have been presented with what seems like indubitable evidence that you have dabbled in treason."

Anderson squinted through his swollen purple eyes, "I nearly fulfilled my mission, too."

A silence befell the room. The Regent's confliction and doubt within himself evaporated as he slowly rose, "Pray tell, what mission?"

Standing a little straighter, Anderson felt no need to hide any longer, "With respect, my Lord, it is easy to make deals with the Devil once you are damned. We could not outright kill two renowned families of nobility, so instead we organized a plot that would set both families against one another."

"A plot?" pursued the Regent, this time with more force in his voice, "Was it you who set the assassins upon us? Was it truly you who nearly killed my boy and murdered my whole family? Will you take the name 'Destroyer of Lineages'?"

Shaking his head like the Regent was a simpleton, he answered, "Nay, this started _long_ before you ever realized the trap you stepped into," Anderson dared to smile, "All of you are puppets to the inner workings of a mastermind; the cogs in a wheel of his machinations to obtain religious domination; pawns in a game of world chess, of which there is one leader who will succeed."

Seras, her mother, Ladislaus, and Pip all traded anxious glances the further Anderson named them. Surely, there could be no sense in his incoherent and disjointed meanderings of each person participating in some higher being's goal of what sounded like fanatical, hegemonic world subjugation by way of religious ideology and fear. No human being could possibly rule the world. After a long, uneasy pause, the Regent spoke.

"Elaborate, please," their leader insisted.

"Do you remember the events of the year of our Lord, 1447. November, to be specific?"

The Regent tightened, "The year of Sir Vlad's pain, I imagine."

Anderson chuckled, "You willingly murdered his father after he was forced to sell his two favorite sons to the very people he swore to defeat."

"Precisely! He _swore_! He _swore_ his loyalty to Christianity and then pledged to Islam. He was a traitor!"

Anderson outright laughed this time, egging his leader's temper further, "Yes! _Good_! He _swore_ to defeat Islam. I could be wrong, but in order to actually defeat a rivaling religion, one must first obtain the numbers to do so, say, after he calls upon his King to help him…?"

The Regent roared in anger and smacked the models off of the map table, approaching his enemy with blistering fury wrapped in a whisper, "Sir Vlad's father did ask for our help, yes. But we, _ourselves_, were scrapping by with our own dwindling numbers! We were not expected to stretch our strength so thin it would snap, else the kingdom would have fallen!"

Anderson leaned in and whispered back with chilling finality, "_Your kingdom, my fearless leader, has already __**fallen**__._"

Pulling back, the Regent slowly clasped his hands around his advisor's neck, ignoring the plights of his family, "Elaborate."

The detained continued with unrestrained alacrity, "That year was the first of hundreds of preparations to turn two noble houses against one another."

"Two houses?" Ladislaus cut in, "The Hunyadis and the Draculs?"

Anderson nodded, "Under the Pope's consent, we were ordered to stay our weapons as Sir Vlad's father begged his King for help, as he begged the great Janos Hunyadi for more men, as Ottomans ransacked and took Vlad from his father, and subsequently as Lord Hunyadi then took the father's life for allowing it."

Ladislaus saw his own father waver, on the brink of insanity, before his fingers fell from Anderson's neck so he could continue.

"We were hoping that _Janos_ would be the one to kill Vlad's family, knowing that if Vlad weren't openly killed by the Ottomans he would seek vengeance on the Regent and likely kill the entire Hunyadi lineage as equal payment, but Lord Vladislav II, protector of Wallachia today, murdered Vlad's family instead. Hence, why Vlad seeks his family's vindication through the death of Lord Vladislav II and not the Regent," he paused, "…a minor setback.

"When the Ottomans simply took Vlad as insurance instead of killing the boy, something we all hoped would happen, it was clear that we needed to interfere with fate once more as the puppet-masters. Back then, other wars and rebuilding from crusades hindered our preparedness, so we waited and strengthened our numbers for what was to come in the future.

"In his youth, Vlad was, for that moment, not perceived as a threat, and one couldn't blithely stomp his way into Edirne, the heartland of the Ottoman Empire, to kill Vlad. So, we waited."

"For what?" the Regent questioned.

"For the perfect opportunity to finish what we started," he stated matter-of-factly, "It was clear we had to interfere once more after you failed to kill Sir Vlad while he was protector of Wallachia. You drove him out a year or so ago, yes, but then you forged an alliance with him hoping to gain knowledge of the Ottomans and their tactics. We had wished you would kill him and be done with it, but an _alliance_?" he closed his eyes to accent his incredulity at the thought.

The Regent shook his head, feeling himself suppress an urge to draw his sword. He first had to hear, know, and understand before that was an option, "Nevertheless, _why_? _Why_ our two houses? _Why_ so hell-bent on setting us against one another to destruction?"

"And who is this _'we'_ you keep referring to?" Ladislaus added.

Anderson breathed in, "Sometimes, God allows what He hates…to accomplish what He loves," he tilted his chin up towards Ladislaus, "You ever heard of the Order of Iscariot, boy?"

"As in Judas Iscariot? The apostle who betrayed Christ for thirty silver coins?"

His whole body relaxing, Anderson welcomed the disgust in Ladislaus's voice and responded with an affectionate tone, "Aye, the very one. We are an organization aimed at… exterminating the unclean."

"What makes my house so _'unclean'_?" the Regent snapped.

"Your blood."

"…_blood_?" the Regent paused in disbelief, "My blood? Unclean? As in… tainted?"

"The Iscariot Organization has finally traced a potent strain of cursed blood down to two noble houses. Our members have kept the well clean for centuries, but certain strains of cursed blood that may have come from the very betrayal of Judas Iscariot himself have poisoned this otherwise perfect well. Others argue it came from the fall of Adam and Eve; God cursing Man for what he had done. Regardless, they exis,t and members who have this… this marred taint inside of them have the capability of turning into twisted images of their former sel–"

"Outlandish! Heresy! What you speak of is a mad man's ramblings!" the Regent laughed and shook his head, "You are a delusional _fool_. I'll ask again: _why our two houses? Why set us against one another_?"

Anderson sighed, clearly angered, "Fine. I'll tell you what you wish to hear: such is the game. Politics and influential families with status and power complicate matters, but what they all have in common is that they _all_ wish to rise triumphant from the other houses. If the goal isn't the Kingship itself, then said triumphant house always wants the most recognition and favor in the eyes of the King, thereby gaining the most power. This organization wanted to wipe out all competitors so we could stand at the King's shoulder and whisper into his ear our will, poison his mind, and corrupt the kingdom," he inhaled, "Was that all right?"

A punch to the face hit his cheekbone hard, causing more swelling to rise up Anderson's head and blood to run down his nose and mouth. This time, spitting out a tooth, his deranged smile infuriated the onlookers who did not restrain their leader from landing another blow to his prisoner. A few more fist throws and the Regent ceased seeing red as he forced himself to breathe deeply and turn away. Resigning back into his chair, and somewhat stunned he had stooped so low as to beat an old friend, he let his son take point with an agreed look.

"Regardless of whether your ramblings are true or not, was this organization behind the recent attacks? Were you behind the assassins?" Ladislaus began, hungry for answers he had been yearning for since he first regained consciousness.

Anderson coughed out a few more mouthfuls before answering, "You assume they were Lions of Ismail, but they had been wiped out long ago. We, the Iscariot Organization, kept their insignia for safe-keeping in case we needed to use them."

"Another way to keep yourselves secret and to continue the façade," Ladislaus pieced together, "It was _Iscariot_ who played the assassins. It was _you_ who let the one assassin into the castle, and it was _you_ who betrayed us," he paused, "Then how did you convince the two Lord Ulrich's to betray us?"

"Simple minds with simple goals, no matter how treasonous their desires, are so easily persuadable, too."

"_They_ wanted _the Regency_?" Ladislaus pieced together.

"_They_ were simply pawns to turn your watchful gaze away from _me_," Anderson corrected angrily, "But they are not your allies either."

Taking a step back, Ladislaus looked at the whole picture, even if it was a bit fragmented. Glancing at his mother, sister, and Pip, he closed his eyes and concentrated. "So," he began, "Here we are, on the brink of war with the Ottoman Empire, and all I see are enemies every way I turn."

Correcting his posture once more in indignation, Anderson spat, "We do not willingly _ally_ ourselves with the Ottomans, but on this front of exterminating a tainted bloodline we had no other choice. _We cannot risk you to continue living_."

It was that last sentence that made the Lord's mind snap to someone, "What of Integra…and Sir Vlad? What now?"

"As if their presence on the battlefront isn't already putting them in enough danger," Anderson chuckled, "But yes, we have kept a line of communication open with the Ottoman Empire. I suspect Sir Vlad and Integra are at their mercy now…"

"What does that mean?" Ladislaus picked up on the trailing end to Anderson's sentence, but all the man replied with was a solemn bow, as if giving recognition to an opponent before one or the other died in battle.

_An ominous clue_, _perhaps?_ Ladislaus's gut told him as it upturned in impending dread.

A moment later and the Regent charged at Anderson.

.•*´¨`*•.

"Under attack?!" Vlad shouted, "What do you mean under attack? How? Where are our scouts, reinforcements from the north, our numbers farther south?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but we were outnumbered and slaughtered! They were hot on my heels as I approached the village!" a messenger skidded to a stop before a hail of arrows rained down on them.

Taking cover behind a stonewall, Vlad closed his eyes while the rush of wind from the arrows hit its side in a clatter of wood and tipped metal. Quelling a rather alarming uprising of panic, he focused on his prime directive: defending his position. Their numbers were far too thin to fight the Ottomans out in the open field. Here, in the village of Calarasi, they had the advantage of fighting on the home front, on their territory, and had the defensive upper hand. Fortunately, the inhabitants of Calarasi had long since departed from it previously in the week.

"Soldier, I need you to grab all of our reinforcements and concentrate them within our location here. We can use this town as our shelter. Get me archers at every rooftop and tell cavalry to disperse into mobile groups of ten, no more. Infantry is to take stands at every other street corner and dig into a home as shelter. I want us to use guerilla warfare. There is no other way to win this! I will spread the command as well," Vlad directed him out of another wave of arrows as he ran in the shelter of pathways within each shop and store to the other side of Calarasi.

_Damn longbows_, Vlad thought. He knew they were used with no particular accuracy. With their range, the longbow didn't need to be accurate. That was the advantage of long-range weapons. They were meant to be pointed upwards and shot in the general direction of the enemy. The arrow could travel farther distances and faster than any horse, and if shot near the direction of a heaping army, it would most certainly find a target.

Within minutes, Vlad noted his men filing into the village stores around every other street corner and saw his cavalry break off into smaller groups. The Ottomans' banners were becoming visible as their ranks rolled forward at a steady gait. Knowing full and well that they would ultimately fail, Vlad thought they could perhaps at least succeed in crippling their enemies' numbers enough to force them into retreating.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts for the bold and futile stand they were all about to make, he signaled for his archers to draw arrows. Sliding their poisoned tips into the air, awaiting his command to release their bowstring, Vlad bitterly recalled his last visit with the Ottoman Army. Radu crossed his mind as well, but deducing from the numbers of this battle, it was not his division. Radu was blessed with the privilege of a titanic force that was probably being used elsewhere closer to their heartland. They were definitely waiting to use Radu for a strategic purpose.

Swiftly lowering his arm, the archers released their retaliation at Vlad's command. While another volley hit their mark, Vlad climbed up the stairs of one store to the rooftop that overlooked the large river valley. To the south of the village lay the Ottoman forces and the archers firing at them; to the east lay a thick tree line ripe for the retreat; to the west lay untouched farmland. If it weren't for the circumstances, Vlad thought it would be a very attractive place to lead a quiet life.

It wasn't until he heard a rally cry coming from behind that Vlad felt his heart stop for a few beats. What little color was left in his face from the chill morning drained instantly as a wave of nearly three hundred Ottoman cavalry galloped toward their position from the north, where his men had their backs turned.

_The north?_ Vlad asked himself_. How could they come in from the north? We ARE the north._

The oncoming onslaught of the mounted men now charging them from the north was too much for Vlad's forces to take with the archers to the south. Whistling and shouting to get his men's attention, Vlad knew it was far too late, and they did not even remotely have the numbers to fight on two fronts: the south and north end. The Ottomans would easily smash them from the sides and chew the rest out that remained trapped within the village for shelter.

A wave of nausea hit him as he tried to steady his shaking body, realizing he had played into their trap like a cornered rat.

A strong hand from behind suddenly grabbed his shoulders and forced him to the ground. Barely glancing up in time before drawing his shield in reflex, Vlad saw a volley of arrows from the southern archers with their damned longbows. Something was different this time, though.

Squinting for a split second before raising his protection, Vlad recognized their hellacious means for ousting them out of hiding: flaming arrows. _They were creating an inferno_. In one grim moment, he felt admiration for his opponent's tactics before their deadly report whistled in his ears once more, this time inducing a deafening din accompanied by an angry whirl of flame against wind.

That was the last thing he remembered as darkness engulfed him like a friend's embrace.

.•*´¨`*•.


	30. A Quest of Retrieval

**A/N: **The title is meant not only for Integra retrieving Vlad, but also for someone else who promises to retrieve _her_ :)

Long update today. Hope you like.

It IS my final examinations this week, so if I've made grammatical errors or others please take pity on me. I will catch those bastards...just later ^.^

And YES! There is IntegraxVlad in this chapter for you lovers out there. I made it especially for you ;)

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

A Quest of Retrieval

Furious and promising to herself she would exact revenge on Lord Vladislaus II if any harm had come to Vlad, Integra kicked her horse faster and out of the last of a tree line. Unsure of where Schrödinger was, she continued onward passed the overgrown vegetation and out into the open field where she knew the village would be. It seemed strange to her that Schrödinger simply told her of Vlad's whereabouts and led her out of the stronghold, unseen. Worse still, he handed her a horse and pointed her in the direction of the village but offered no assistance, as if this was some sort of test to measure her resolve. All he told her was that it was paramount to have Vlad found and retrieved.

Pushing aside the rest of her muddled thoughts of the whole situation, Integra's eyes strained to see out across the ripped and torn terrain, desperately searching for a glimpse of that crimson cape she ached to see. But all that was visible were the billowing, smoky clouds of a leveled village and the maimed bodies to surround it. Frantically eyeing any shape that moved, her spirits fell as she continued to see nothing but the grass sway in the silent wind. The ground was streaked with red and peppered in opposing uniforms. The scene was fresh- no reinforcements to collect the dead and cart what could be left of the wounded. A horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach was choking the last of the hope out of her.

Dismounting her horse in the middle of the field and bewildered where to even begin her search, Integra began to claw at bodies in the assortment of piles they were in, wildly looking for any scrap of evidence of where Vlad could be. Jumping from pile to pile, she upturned bodies in a furious rush, quelling the urge to gag at the smell and stopping herself short of succumbing to her morbid fascination of the dead. She gasped when her hand pulled out from underneath a body a large maroon cape with golden tassels and a thick rope connecting the shoulders.

Falling to her knees, she gingerly placed it in her lap and felt her knuckles tighten. Her eyes unfocussed on the sunrise at the horizon as her body became unresponsive and numb.

She had caused this entire catastrpohe.

She had to open her smart mouth to Lord Vladislaus II, she had to provoke him into striking her -which would have only made Vlad draw his sword- and she had to get them both in trouble because of it. She had her pride for all of a matter of seconds before Lord Vladislaus II punished her, and for what? Vlad got the brunt of the punishment, and he was ordered to leave to Calarasi on a mission with a suspiciously small amount of men. If she had not opened her big mouth to begin with, he _would not_ have marched into imminent danger and _would_ have lived.

"He ist either alive or dead," Schrödinger appeared out of the ashen smoke and plaintively bowed his head before surprising her with a devious smile, "Preferably un-living."

Integra jumped, alarmed and angered, "Where did you— why are you— how could you say that? I thought you wanted us both alive and safe! Not dead!"

"Did I say 'dead'?" he suggestively asked with a hinting manner.

Integra grunted, frustrated with his tongue twisters. Even if he was leaving her bread crumbs to follow just what was up ahead, it didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was that she had Vlad's cape curled into her hands, and a humbling amount of blood pooled and stained into it.

She stood up solemnly, refusing to relinquish power over to her womanly desire to scream outright. Vlad had performed his duty loyally and without question. He was intemperate, insufferable, arrogant, pompous, egotistical, opportunistic, and above all, ruthless.

Every vice she admired and was proud to attribute to herself as well.

Forcing herself to turn away from the battlefield and gaze down at the only reminder she had, she began folding it in silent remorse. Integra was tucking in the corners and focusing on blinking away the blur in her eyes when she heard Schrödinger chuckle and turn to face a spot in the distance with theatrical poise. A moment later, she found her head snapping to attention and fixating on that same spot, hearing a defining roar and rumble against the crumbling rubble of the field.

Meters away, Vlad felt his body shake as he attempted to free himself of the wreckage one last time. His muscles screamed in protestation as his body emerged from the debris—not from angst or anticipation, but from the rage of battle; from the rush of energy; from the unstoppable surge of endurance. It was the driving force of a great and determined soldier, and no more than in that moment did he look legendary to Integra.

Boards of wood that had toppled over him slid off as well as limbs of bodies and upturned earth in a random assortment of rubble. Heaving a tremendous sigh, Vlad brushed off his shoulders and kicked off the remaining debris, freeing himself from the wreckage and taking a few steps out of it. Aware there was sudden movement in his periphery, Vlad drew up short, concluding he had no strength to fight whatever it was. And it was coming fast.

Integra exhaled in relief as she gazed upon his battered form, realizing a few moments later that she was racing towards him at a dead sprint.

Acrid smoke filled her lungs as she gasped for air, making her last few strides to his side as she leaped over another pile of bodies. She suppressed the urge to cough and cry out at the same time, rolling to a stop before him gracefully. Taking a few more breaths in, she let out one final exhalation through her nose to calm her racing heart.

Standing there, his sword arm limp and his shield arm bruised and bloodied, hair matted to one side as the wet trickle of blood down his forehead beaded to a halt at his jaw line, shoulders sagging against the weight of his armor, boots sinking into the red mud, Vlad all but collapsed right there from exhaustion. He might have, if it had not been for a familiar angelic face that presented itself to him.

Hmm, what a beautiful hallucination.

He looked up at her with a blank stare, as if not truly believing the sight before him.

"Am I dead?" he asked, reaching out to her face, "God knows, you were the last thing I thought."

She sucked in a raw breath at the comment, retreating from his touch, but Integra did place her hand over his, catching it as it was about to fall back to his side, "No, Sir Vlad. You are not dead. I am not dead. Everyone and everything is _very much alive_," pausing to glance him over, "Can you walk? Can you ride?"

Vlad smiled, "You are so beautiful. The moon pales in jealously at your fair skin."

Taking a few steps back from him, she frowned and turned to Schrödinger. "What ails him?"

The feline-boy strolled up and snorted, "He's alright. My master has told me much of this ailment. Just a bit of shock. You have never seen soldiers come down from the rush of battle. It ist thrilling, puts your mind und everything around in a beautiful haze as your body und instincts to survive kick in. Problem ist…some men have a harder time snapping back to reality. His mind vill return, but for now ve must get you und him out of this open field."

Agreeing, she swung one arm around Vlad's back to steady his balance and began to walk slowly to her mount. The soft rumple of grass stepped on and the teasing breeze were all that made sound. In that quiet moment, she smiled, remembering how he once held her up to steady her balance upon receiving bad news.

But that was a lifetime ago, hearing of that engagement to a man she'd never met and subsequently keeling over the castle wall to eject breakfast and lunch. How strong his hands were then, holding her steady as she made herself indecent leaning over the wall. Looking at them now as she paused in front of her horse, she saw they were a sickly purple color and slightly trembling.

"Sir Vlad," she addressed softly. His head turned, noticing her again.

"My Lady?"

She took a hold of his face in her hands, grabbing his full attention and locked eyes, "I need you to get on this horse. Can you do that?"

He nodded slowly, processing her information and realizing there was a massive animal next to him with hooves ready to gallop off. Without question, he mechanically placed his foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up in the saddle. Lowering his hand for her, she hopped on as well, sliding in behind him and wrapping her arms about his waist to hang on.

Looking around, she growled angrily. Schrödinger had disappeared again. Fortunately, she remembered the little town's name they were supposed to meet him at. If it wasn't for Schrödinger's convincing argument a couple of days ago, she never would have agreed to this. Or perhaps her ego wanted her to prove that she could do this —some tempting desire to prove him wrong, and by extension, any man who had challenged her. But before anyone's questions were answered, they had to get to safety before they were spotted.

Whispering the town's name into Vlad's ear, he nodded in recognition and kicked the horse to set off in its direction.

.•*´¨`*•.

"Please, I have already apologized profusely. I beg your forgiveness. I was blind to the enemy at my side," the Regent bowed his head in defeat.

What dim light the dungeon did allow only provided Lord George more ammunition against the leader.

"No, no! Forgive _me_! Formalities and pleasantries escape us. Pardon my manners, but my son and I have been down in this cesspit for _God knows how long_, eating _God knows what_, waiting until _God knows when_ for you laggards to realize that we were NEVER a part of some plot to overthrow the rightful King or your Lordship!" Lord George howled in pain as Victor hoisted him up by the waist. His sarcasm only bit further into the Regent as he upturned his palms as a sign of acceptance.

Pip handed both men fine clothes in exchange for the rags they were put in. Victor politely took them and thanked the knight.

"Do not thank the likes of _them_. They are not men," Lord George stated flatly and glared at his son, "Gather your things. We leave at once."

Victor nodded and passed the Regent, but the elder caught the younger's arm.

Turning, Victor saw a panic-stricken father before the expression concealed itself, "My boy, it is wholly beneath you to even consider doing what I beg you do, but since Integra never gave up her insistence that you were innocent, I am only asking this of you because of her."

"Is something amiss?" he offered, trying to stay level headed with his captor.

The Regent closed his eyes as his voice lowered to a whisper, "Integra, she is in grave danger I fear. The man who was responsible was barely taken into custody before he—" the leader paused, exchanging a sudden and agreed look with Pip, "before we killed him. But the perpetrator did gloat at his knowledge of Integra's compromised safety."

Victor held up a hand, "And you want me to race out to save my rightfully betrothed after you have already imprisoned me here in the hopes that…what? I will find her, return with her, marry her, and everything will be put back into order?"

The Regent tried to carry himself with dignity, but Victor's dissection of his plan weighed heavy, like an anchor chained to the old man's heart. "You would be accompanied by Pip, my most trusted and newly appointed knight. I would never expect you to do this alone."

"PREPOSTEROUS!" Lord George spat, grabbing Victor by the collar of his ragged shirt, "We are headed straight back to Bohemia. How could you stoop so low as to ask my son to risk his life for some tart who has a knack for trouble?"

"I'll do it."

Lord George choked, tripping on a stone, "W-what?!"

Victor stood his ground against his father's pull, "Unhand me, father. This woman is to be my _wife_. Have you forgotten all that she has done for us?" Victor silently pointed out not only her insistence that they were innocent, but how she had also used secret passageways to enter the dungeon and bring them fresh food and water.

This gave Lord George pause as he slowly loosened his grip, until he let go completely. "There...is no persuading you otherwise, is there."

Victor shook his head, then brushed his grit covered blonde hair out of his eyes, "I owe her. You owe her. But I _love_ her."

The Regent clapped his hands together, "If there is but one boon I would ask of you, it would be to seek out Integra and bring her back to me. If you succeed, I will be forever in your debt. I will always answer to your distress. I will always be available for your counsel, benefit, use, or any other needs for which I will be called."

"You have a knack for making friends out of enemies, Hunyadi," Lord George snarled, clearly referring to the fragile alliance made with that young rebel-rousing Dracul named Vlad, "But do not expect us to answer _your_ call."

Victor fired a hot glance at his father, then smiled as comfortably as he could through cracked lips. "Then let the quest begin. Where is my mount?"

"Excellent!" the Regent praised, showing both men to the door and watched as they began the long walk up floors of stairs to reach level ground outside.

Pip drew up beside the Regent, exhaling in relief, "That was close, my Lord."

"Too close," he said in a low tone, then turned to his knight, "I doubt Lord Victor or Lord George would believe us if we informed them of what _really_ happened."

Pip chuckled against his toothpick, "Indeed. We would be branded heretics and burned at the stake," Pip opened up one hand, "A man who whispered passages of the Bible and Holy Scripture that enveloped him in protection as he vanished into thin air right before our eyes? Un-believable," Pip then opened up the other to reveal the other option, "We killed him for his treachery? Believable."

.•*´¨`*•.

Rain bore down on the village as Integra and Vlad approached the only inn. Clutching the edge of her hooded cowl, Integra drew it close to her face, letting go of Vlad's waist as they halted their mount to a hitching post. Grey smoke belched out of a stone chimney planted aside the tavern as shuttered windows creaked loudly against the wind. Sliding off, she gazed up at the dripping sign that banged over the door.

"Nightgate Inn," she breathed, turning around to face Vlad.

He had grabbed her coin purse and stuffed it in his pocket. Walking alongside her against the stinging rain, he grabbed her arm, suddenly alert.

"My Lady, once we are inside, you must follow my lead. Taverns are rife with derelicts, deviants, and no place for the nobility," he nodded to the small hovel.

Agreeing, she took his arm as they walked up the steps. The warm, whistling gale that blew in their faces as they entered nearly melted Integra where she stood. The smoky scent of a fire being stoked and cooked meats assailed her nose as her stomach groaned. Feeling Vlad's arm tighten, she looked up to see a crowded inn with a great number of heads raised from their cups. Men's eyes hungrily perused her features as they ventured further in.

Brazenly staring straight back at them, Integra opened up her cape wide enough to display not only the trousers Integra was wearing but also her sheathed sword tied into her belt, a clear statement to anyone that she was well armed and possibly capable.

Vlad walked straight up to the innkeeper and placed the fat coin purse upon the table.

"How much for two night's worth?"

The balding man behind the counter glanced them over, knowing immediately that his two new guests were quite misplaced. "Hmm, not residents. One with quite an amount of blood on his tunic, mail, and cape…the other a woman, armed as well with a look of great purpose. Shall I expect the local constabulary to barge into my business any minute?"

Growling and taking a threatening step closer, Vlad found himself abruptly cut short as Integra leaned over the counter.

"I believe we have a mutual friend in common who will set this straight," she batted her eyes.

"Oh, really?" the man chuckled, wiping out a recently used mug.

"Perhaps I should tell Schrödinger and the Herr Major that we will not be seeing them at this location tomorrow since a certain innkeeper refused our coin," she said in a low tone with a polite smile as the color drained his face.

Lifting his arm and pointing to a lit room down the hall, he whispered, "F-for free. _Take it_."

With a condescending nod putting the lack-wit in his place, Integra daintily reached over to retrieve her purse, jingling her money in front of him, and turned to address everyone's stares in the room.

"Drinks on the house!" she exclaimed with a loud bellow.

Cheers and joy followed those words as heads turned back to their cups and animated conversations began once more. Bar wenches giggled and began to pour from the tap as Integra pivoted back around and tipped the fuming barkeep two coins, hardly enough to cover a full house a whole hearty round on a chilling night as this.

"For your troubles," she accompanied the gesture with a smirk, linked her arm in Vlad's, and walked to their room.

Turning the corner and closing the door silently, she noticed a figure in the shadows already waiting for them. Fortunately, after a vicious heartbeat trampled her senses, Integra realized it was a familiar figure.

"Walter!" she exclaimed, "You made it here."

Walter bowed to her respectfully, surprised and happy for the enthusiastic greeting, "I am not yet so old that I would fall behind. There are no gray hairs on this full head just yet," he winked, but the merry expression did not last when Vlad entered as well, "I see you have…company."

"He is needed in this," she reminded him, watching as the two men stared each other down. Sighing, she tapped her foot to gain their attention, "Walter."

Walter snapped back to her, "My Lady?"

She straightened her posture, unyielding as she stated more than asked, "Will you be alright to scout the area? We must make sure we were not followed. We also need the horses to be stabled here and supplies for tomorrow's run. Can you do this for me?"

Walter hesitated for a moment, regarding Vlad once more, "Will you be alright?" He clearly meant 'without me and with Vlad'. She nodded reassuringly.

"Please. Time is of the essence. I'll bar the door behind you. Knock once, and then three more times to let me know it is you."

Walter agreed reluctantly, bidding them farewell and putting on his inconspicuous coat once more. Waving one last time, he shut the door behind him and heard Integra lock it.

After barring the door from entry, Integra noticed Vlad's darkened but amused expression. Rolling her muddied and sodden cape off her shoulders, she hung the wet pile of clothes on the hook against the door.

"Yes?" she inquired, "I can almost hear the cogs and wheels turning in your mind."

Vlad sighed softly, not deigning to disclose his thoughts. Taking only a moment to inspect the room before coming to the conclusion it would be suitable, he shed his red cape, lifted the chain mail up over his head and let it fall to the ground, and began to untie his tunic tiredly more than any way that could be interpreted as sinister. Still, Integra bristled.

"What are you doing?" she wondered if he would actually strip right in front of her.

In truth, all evidence couldn't point to the contrary. He clearly had no shame around her, especially after their first near roll-in-the-hay when she saw him in the barracks. Feeling her cheeks warm, she turned disdainfully away.

"I hope you don't plan on… Doing what I think you're doing," she couldn't even bring herself to say it.

Folding her arms across her chest, she scowled and looked terribly formidable… if she had been facing him, that is. Integra felt the warm heat of his body right behind her as he approached. Cursing at the small quaint room with only one simple bed to share and a tiny fireplace, she grimaced at the fact that she had inadvertently trapped herself in a corner. She felt like easy prey and he the hunter. The soft touch of his hand trailing her forearm caused her to tense. His long arm was already wrapped around her and linking his fingers with hers. She instinctively dropped her folded arms and turned around accusingly.

"Is there something you need?" she asked more soothingly than intended.

Vlad gave her a knowing gaze, "You came for me."

"Yes," she answered hotly, "And I, unfortunately, would have to do it again if this situation arose once more."

"What situation?" he took in her wet curls and weather-beaten face. Her nose and cheeks were a color of pink from the cold and her lips a delightful shade of red.

"A situation where your life is in danger. I need you alive," Integra stated matter-of-factly.

He jokingly laughed, "Indeed, alive to carry out your orders as your indentured pet-thing."

Her eyes narrowed, "I see your unwanted humor has returned. Perhaps it is now time to debrief, then. Tell me, what happened on the battlefield?"

He rolled slightly on his heels, distancing himself. Talking about what had transpired was not what he had in mind at that moment. Any defeat he wished to forget promptly, but if she wished to know, he would tell her. "We were ambushed. The few numbers I had were cut down like cattle at slaughter. What's worse, I led them straight into it without knowing. The enemy laid waste to the outpost, burning everything in their path to set us aflame and the cavalry to trample us into the ground. I should be so lucky to come out of it with only bruises."

His stance relaxed as she noticeably relaxed. Integra noted that she should probably act more cordial if she wanted to pull information out of him. It was hardly productive to make him uncomfortable after what he had just been through. She took a step closer.

"Are you…" Integra struggled for a moment, attempting to sound softer, "Are you alright?"

He smiled genuinely, and yet apologetically at the same time, "Yes, my Lady. I am well. Now, if you would tell me, what is your arrangement with Schrödinger and Herr Major?"

She sat down in the only chair available, as if her body was suddenly heavy and teetered her on the edge of balance. It was not until a moment later when Vlad realized it was her conscience weighing down. Offering him to sit on the bed, as it was the only other seat, he did so and waited patiently for her to start.

With a sigh, Integra began. "I found myself clawing at the doors of my room to get out. Lord Vladislaus II had seen to it that I was to receive regular meals prepared daily, but that was all he offered of humanly contact. Just those brief moments where a guard would enter my room, hand me my food, and leave," her eyes darkened, "Well, that and his regular visits of… trying to woo me."

She saw Vlad's nostrils flare and heard a deep guttural sound in the back of his throat. As calmly as he could possibly ask, he lowered his head, "Did he touch you, my Lady?"

She shook her head, "Nay. He never deigned to do more than place his hand next to mine, but never touched. I was little more than a prisoner to him, despite the fact that I had a 'fertile womb, and had yet to be made into a woman'. Regardless, When Schrödinger came to me with a proposition, I could not refuse it. He offered me my freedom," Integra paused.

"…In exchange for?" Vlad led, a suspicious twinge to his voice.

"For a meeting to be arranged with him and the Herr Major. They represent the—"

"Teutonic Knights," Vlad answered, "I've heard of them."

Integra wasn't sure if he meant the two men personally or the brotherhood they represented. After a pause, she nodded, "Schrödinger, the 'messenger', has promised it will be a meeting not filled with blood, but with information. It would seem their intent is not harmful, and I was loath to refuse his offer after a week of Lord Vladislaus II."

"I will kill him," Vlad stated straightly, standing back up.

Integra stood up as well, signifying the end of that topic, "Indeed, I've no doubt that you will. But for now, I need you to _rest_," she inflected the last word to show its importance.

When Vlad shook his head, a twinkle in his eyes sparkled, "Nay, my Lady. I've never felt so _alive_. Facing Death demands celebrating Life."

She frowned, looking down to come up with some kind of rebuttal when she suddenly realized he was stepping towards her.

Vlad advanced closer, undaunted by her fighting stance as he suddenly framed her face in his hands and plunged his mouth to hers. It was so abrupt that the act rigidly planted her body where she stood.

Completely stunned at his conduct, Integra gasped against him as he swiftly wrapped both arms around her, constricting her but yet holding her shattered emotions together. Vlad encased her in warmth, hands sifting through the thick mass of her tangled hair from the rain. Grazing the skin behind her ear with his knuckles, he let his hands trail down further to her neck, over, and around to her spine, feeling it arch in recognition to his touch. Slanting his mouth over hers, Vlad felt Integra fight against his compelling need to taste her. But when he teased her with his tongue at the seam of her lips, she gasped once more, regretting it an instant later as Vlad gained passage further into her mouth.

Vlad moaned deeply against her, suddenly feeling her body mold to his, thanking God for this respite from the earthly hell he knew they undoubtedly were about to face. Where Integra's thoughts were uncertain, her body seemed to snap, welcoming him with an instinctual understanding that he awakened once more.

It was a craving; a primal desire; a biological need.

Snaking her hands wildly through his black locks, she anchored his carnal kiss to her. Now _she_ was advancing, and she was suddenly taking steps forward, cornering Vlad this time as she felt his back hit the wall. The Hunter became the hunted. Integra felt him suck in a ragged breath as she brought his lips back to hers with a hard tug and bit his lower lip, then went about soothing it with her tongue before drawing it into her mouth once more. She raked her hands across his chest, pinning him to the wall and mercilessly claiming his body in sweet agony and pleasure so strong, it couldn't be tempered for long.

His arms no longer caging her, Vlad let them roam freely to the contours of her hour glass and up to the soft mounds of her breasts, kneading the fabric's strings as his fingers worked them free. Lowering his mouth, she in kind leaned her head back and gave him access to the long slender column of her neck. Sensually kissing a trail of smoldering heat down her, he ripped open her kirtle and helped her shrug out of it. Now, a loose white shirt on her the only thing in his way -and her trousers, but those were next- Vlad marveled at how she took no time to remove an article of his in response.

Lifting off his tunic, Integra gingerly traced his corded muscles, the uplifted scars all around his chest and shoulders, and wandered down to his taut abs. Integra felt Vlad shudder as she worked two angles: teasingly chewing his left ear and massaging his abdomen. Attacking his neck next, she soon realized that he was immobilized, completely at her mercy as he slumped limply in her embrace.

"_Mother Mary_," he whispered in rapture, as if her taste physically drugged him, "_I am yours to command_."

She tantalizingly lowered her head, opening her mouth and licking him from the base of his chest up to his neck. His hands clamped down on her head as he claimed her mouth once more.

"Then do as I command, and lay down on that bed," her eyes blazed as she murmured against the kiss.

Vlad grinned, twining his fingers in hers as he backed up to the bed, leading her with him. With a defining push, Integra slammed him down against the cot, cramped, hot, and already aching with the anticipation of himself sinking inside of her. The roles were reversed this time. He had awoken something within her, and she was not about to take away the overt power it gave her over Vlad, the untamable.

Falling down on top of him, she straddled his waist and lowered her hips to his, grinding against the stiff arousal she felt, celebrating in the groan that escaped him as he closed his eyes. Latching onto her waist with both hands, he followed her tempo back and forth against his body, taking pleasure from her nimbleness.

Reaching one arm around her back, Vlad swiftly flipped her over, now on top. He reveled in her breathy laugh as his mouth found her chest and hips found her center. Feeling the heavy weight of a man on top of her, Integra almost forgot her reason in tempting him like this. Nearly losing herself to the pure enjoyment of it, she remembered to slowly move toward one of his hands.

As she restlessly moved underneath him, he instinctively quickened his movement.

Integra almost laughed gleefully as she wrapped both legs around Vlad and heard him exhale a noise between a moan and a whimper.

But something suddenly locked around his wrist, and it wasn't her fingers. It was too cold. Metallic. Glancing up, still in a haze of carnal bliss, Vlad realized what it was and raised an eyebrow.

"My Lady," he cleared the rasp in his throat, "Had I known clapping me in irons was part of the foreplay, I'd have generously put them on myself." He reached back down with his other hand but saw her dodge it.

Integra laughed out a syllable, "I don't doubt it. But I need you to rest, as I had told you to do. I have humored you. Now you must do as I say," she lifted up his free arm from her and slithered adeptly out of his range and off of the bed.

Glancing back at him with indifference and remarking on how well her trouser pockets hid the cuffs, Integra saw his angered expression as he tugged at his constraints.

"Is making love merely a game to you?" he tried to sit up and face her.

"Love? Is that the new word you call your lust for me?" she asked rhetorically, then considered his statement for a moment, bobbing her head side to side before landing on an answer. "Sensual desire and indulgence for its own sake is a misuse of something sacred." She picked up her kirtle and settled it back over her white shirt as he pulled against the bedpost once again.

"What I feel for you _is_ sacred," he breathed, as he caught her attention, "God forgive me, but I cannot expel you from me. This is no mere lust. You course through my very blood, and I do not have the strength to refuse you, yet you refuse me?"

Hotly glaring at him, Integra spat, "I _have_ to refuse you! I will not be your woman, nor any man's woman. _No_ man will ever claim me. 'Tis not my fault that your advances are always cut short by the reality of my Reason."

Adamant fire now in his eyes to reflect the fervor of his words, "Your Reason? Tell me straightly that you do not feel an ounce of care for me and I will believe there was no portion of you that enjoyed what just happened between us."

This caused her to falter, for she did care for him. Greatly. Just not in the way, she thought, that he did for her.

"I care for you, sirrah," she agreed, "But I do not love you."

He let out a low and grating exhale, yanking one last time at his constraints before going quite still. He nodded to them, then gestured to the whole of himself.

"You play with fire, my Lady. Expect to be _burned_."


	31. An Offering

**A/N:** Its shameful how long it's been. Family drama, breakups, world travel, and through it all FanFic never changes. It is the one constant at the end of the day, assured never to waver, change, or disappear. Some consistency in one's life is very reassuring.

So. How have you been, my loves?

I know that tobacco was not mainstreamed to Europe until Columbus came back with it, but Integra needs a tobacco pipe, amirite?

**Disclaimer**: I do NOT, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it.

.•*´¨`*•.

An Offering

The damp air of the morning filled Walter's lungs as he accosted Integra with a polite good morning. Whatever had happened last night clearly occurred between Integra and Vlad, and it was scratching its way through Walter's conscience. When daybreak had approached and he returned from his post outside, Integra was sleeping, crouched over an inn table. Not daring to wake her, Walter had checked the room they had rented for a night only to discover that Vlad had been chained to the bedpost. What in God's holy named happened? He could only wonder.

Integra grunted in reply to Walter's greeting, so he continued to stand stoically, observing her ragged appearance.

"Rough night?" he offered.

Integra turned to face him and found an intrusive grin tugging away at his mouth. Her honesty for him turned sour that instant.

"Oh, bite me."

Walter drew back, "I'm actually impressed. Few could possibly resist the advances of such a capturing man as Sir Vlad."

Integra fished into her trouser pocket and pulled out a long pipe. Walter choked when he noticed her lighting it.

"My Lady, what habit is _THIS_?" he exclaimed.

She drew in a deep breath, coughing only once, "It is a new habit I like to call 'Not Killing Vlad for Today'. Calms my nerves that desire to _maul_ _him_."

Before a witty remark could pass the servant's lips, a figure appeared from the doorway, freshly awakened and clearly pleased. Vlad sauntered his way outside into the morning dew and handed back the irons to Integra who tried to snatch them viciously from his hands.

Vlad pulled her closer for a second, then released his grasp to let her pocket the irons, "I humored you by remaining in these cuffs. So, did you miss me?"

"With every arrow thus far," she retorted acerbically.

Her irascible mood only put Vlad in a better one. After the previous night, he made sure to have a plan that would unseat her rational thought. All they had to do was return to Târgoviște and everything would be set in motion.

Casually resting against the railing, he decided to point her in his deceptive direction, "I suggest that after our meeting with these unseemly friends of yours, Integra, we return back to Curtea Domnească, in Târgoviște."

Integra intensified her gaze to the soft rolling grass of the hillside. She dared not look interested. "Do you have business there? By your leave, safe travels," she gave farewell.

"I grant you wit, but had it ever occurred to you that I rather value my life and would like to return where our forces are strongest?" Vlad turned to her, "My Lady, if you wish to continue this loud feud between us, I suggest we do so without words."

Integra smirked loftily as she backed into the doorway, "Without words, yet by touch instead? Engage in loose behavior? Are you daft, or do you truly believe that I enjoyed last night?"

Suddenly, her back hit something firm -someone's chest. Closing her eyes in humiliation at whoever had heard her, she slowly cranked her head to meet the eyes of Herr Major, a portly man with a monocle on one eye and a sparkling smirk accompanied in the other. Glancing her over only for a moment, he bowed his head in recognition of her noble birth, but Integra could tell he was not interested in her state of being; he looked much longer at Vlad.

"My Lady, my Lord," Herr Major bowed at Vlad, "Shall ve convene in a more suitable room than the bitter cold of the outside?"

Walter led the way back into the tavern portion of the inn where the room had surprisingly been cleared. The manservant took only a moment to remember Herr Major's stature to the barkeep, remembering his trembling hand as Walter stated his name. Naturally, the room would be cleared for a major with such stature. Apparently, the major had a reputation, and if it was one that created such a convulsive response from others, Walter would have to be hyper-alert coming into this meeting. Taking a stance in the corner of the wide room, he rested his heels against a pillar holding the fireplace and spit in place. Herr Major waited until everyone in the room had seated and then motioned for Schrödinger, previously unseen, to make himself visible provided by the sparse candlelight. With an intentional and theatrical pause, Herr Major began his long monologue.

"Constantinople has fallen. The final Christian presence east of the Mediterranean Sea has been hung, drawn, und quartered. The Ottomans believe that it ist their time to thrive; that their religion and Allah ist the one true god. However, religion ist a human construct of an idealized perfection. It is man-made, and therefore faulty to begin vith. But Man vas not meant to _follow_ a higher being; Man vas meant to _become_ that higher being. Vhat ve did not know vas that Man has the capability to become perfection."

Integra leaned back into her chair and listened carefully to each word Herr Major stated. At first, she believed him to be a heretic, babbling nonsensical verbiage, and discretely began to think of ways to slip out of the tavern. That was…until she glanced at Vlad.

The major's words seemed to captivate him greatly, alarmingly. By the end of Herr Major's rant, she cleared her throat to break the trance he had seemed to place over Vlad.

"Am I to understand that you and your companion, Schrödinger, followed my whereabouts, traveled all this way, to tell me that you believe there is some perfect form that a person can take?" she couldn't help but look at him quizzically.

Herr Major never skipped a beat, "The strength to become this ist not vithin all beings. I have found in my research that the capability ist only bestowed upon very few, perhaps even dating back to one bloodline. Vhere Lord Anderson has failed, I have found a treasure trove of knowledge," he pointed to a large stack of papers, each mismatched and written by countless authors. All in Latin.

Integra tensed, "Yes, I remember Schrödinger informing me of such a treasonous statement. You honestly expect me to believe that a trusted advisor would actually be a traitor to his kingdom? That he was sent here from the Pope himself to exterminate my bloodline and Sir Vlad's on the basis of this…this gift? Curse?"

Vlad chimed in, "And according to your report of this treason, it happened merely days ago, yet it takes a week in good weather to reach the border where Lady Integra and I are currently stationed. Can you explain how you knew of this if you were here the entire time, or en route?"

This time, there was a long pause. The dimly lit room suddenly felt ill at ease, the very air heavy with secrecy and illusion. It felt as though Integra and Vlad were both in the presence of a very powerful and very dangerous answer to their questions. Integra realized that the danger itself did not come from the answer, but the fact that it took form in the man before her. She tried to make eye contact with Vlad, tried to warn him that provoking this man would not be in their best interests, but he evaded her gaze.

"My Lady," Walter approached from the corner from which he was observing, "This pathway is the road to ruin."

"The road to _redemption_!" Herr Major corrected, "There ist no God-God ist a fictional creation made by humans to explain vhat they cannot understand! To make it easier for their minds to believe there ist a life after this! But there ist no afterlife, und there ist no God. There ist simply the continuous eternity in vhich ve all live."

Vlad inhaled deeply, trying to stay alert as he felt a warm sensation embalm his body. Herr Major's words slowly drugged his mind with thoughts that had never been his own; thoughts that strangely made more and more sense with each passing second.

"Why do you keep saying 'humans'? Is there a different definition by which these perfect beings are classified?" Integra pressed.

"Humans do not live for an eternity," Walter added.

Herr Major shrilled in laughter for a moment, "Correct, mild-mannered servant. Humans do not live for an eternity," he turned to Vlad, locking eyes with him.

Integra stifled a gasp as Vlad curled up in his seat, jaw clenched and arms wrapped tightly around his body. His knuckles began to turn white and his breathing shallow when Integra and Walter both approached the major armed.

"Whatever you are doing to him, stop," she whispered as she saw Vlad start convulsing.

Schrödinger leapt off of an adjacent table and barred his teeth in a hiss that tore through Integra's ears. Without removing his trance, Herr Major dismissed his pet and stated calmly, "Show them, my test subject."

The feline boy relaxed his stance but lunged quite obviously for Integra. With a shriek, she plunged her sword into its mark, swearing at her opponent as she twisted the blade further in. But when Schrödinger did not fall to the floor-when all that showed for Integra's heroic impalement was a small trail of red blood snaking its way down the silver steel, she met his eyes and drew back in shock.

His teeth were sharp as a ferocious war hound, his eyes were a shade of crimson and black, and his body had physically grown to tower over her frame. She stepped back as his own hand pulled out the sword.

"Y-you do not wish us to follow God's path but instead preach to become the Devil incarnate?" Integra breathed in realization. She noticed that Vlad had stopped convulsing but was breathing heavily, sagging in his seat. "What did you _do_ to him?"

"To Schrödinger, or to Sir Vlad?" Herr Major clarified.

"Yes," she answered as she sheathed her sword.

Before the major could answer Vlad grumbled, "Th-the…the voices. The whispers…"

Walter stepped forward and right up to Herr Major's chair, where he upturned his head and smiled delightfully.

"Major…what do you want?" Walter inflected each word, gripping the wooden frame instead of the man's neck, "It is obvious that you are a man of great invention and great intention. What is it exactly you intend to do with Lady Integra and Sir Vlad? For if it involves physical or mental harm to either, I will hunt you to the ends of this world before I will let you touch them."

Standing up to measure Walter, the major nodded, "I have been to the ends of this vorld, servant, and vhat I vant ist to create the perfect opponent, vatch him flourish in his new form for centuries to come, und then annihilate him vhen he ist good and bored of everything. Only then vill he realize that perfection ist folly; that perfection ist nothing, means nothing, and that he IST nothing."

"You will not make a candidate out of either one of us," Integra vowed, stepping back to place a hand on Vlad's shoulder. She looked down only to find that he was donning the same eerie grin as the major.

"Oh," the tubby leader signaled his pet to leave and bid everyone adieu, sorting the stack of Latin papers, "I think I already have one candidate interested."

Before Integra warned them never to accost her party again, either on the road or within the walls of Castle Hunyad, both men fluidly left the room with naught but a whisper from the wind.

.•*´¨`*•.

Pip lifted his helmet against the biting wind for a fraction of a second. Clucking his mount forward, he leaned back in the saddle as his steed trotted down a grassy knoll and came to a halt once more. Victor wasn't far behind. Travelling lightly, they made impeccable timing. Just on the horizon, Târgoviște. In all its glory, it seemed the most modern city in the entire kingdom. Her banners waving high and proud, the two men slowly made their way to the city gate.

A third figure dragged itself in great exertion along the plains with Victor's packhorse in hand. Huffing and puffing for air, his stoutly manner careened off of a boulder on its way down the hill. Cursing and spitting out dirt, he knelt on one knee for a brief and consuming moment.

"M-my Lord! I am drained of all energy! After spending what felt like an eternity in that Godforsaken dungeon, I do not yet have the strength to keep up!"

Pip drew his horse alongside Victor's, "My Lord, why _did_ you bring along your…servant? Lackey?"

"Well I wasn't going to leave him behind," Victor smiled, "Besides, it would be entirely improper to arrive without escort."

"The news we carry is much more important than stalling for one rotund man," Pip sighed, nudging his horse forward again.

Calling out in lofty grandeur, Victor cupped his mouth so the message would carry over the distance, "Do not dally, Seneschal Marius! You did not come all this way to stop short of our destination! My bride-to-be awaits!"

"I'm getting déjà vu," Grinding his teeth, Seneschal Marius stood back up and trundled forward once more. "I'll hang 'im by his toes. I swear it."

Turning back around in the saddle, Victor shifted to his companion, "As for the news, to which are you referring? The mandate from the Regent stating that all auxiliary forces report to Castle Hunyad to embark for Serbia, or the news of your secret engagement to Lady Seras?"

"Apparently, local taverns are rife with gossip these days. People talk, but, then again, people do little else."

Victor playfully shrugged, "The walls. They whisper."

Pip grunted, "Well, as long as the walls have ears, they should know that if gossip reaches the Regent, I will personally cut off their ears."

Victor shook his head, disgusted at his counterpart's primitive answer, "I'm so glad you've been educated in the ways of tact and diplomacy. This is exactly how we will need to bring the news to Lord Vladislav II."

"Apparently," Pip stated in a suggestive term, "Lady Integra was capable of convincing the Regent that she could act as an envoy. Whether or not that all is going well, we will have to determine once we arrive."

Victor paused as they approached the high walled gates, watching men rush to the forefront of the battlements and draw their bows straight down at them, "Somehow, I have a feeling it is not going well…"

One man signaled for them to stop, "HALT! What is your business? What cargo do you carry with you?"

Victor motioned for Seneschal Marius to come forward, "We carry only what we could from Castle Hunyad. I am Lord Victor, son of Lord George of Bohemia, and this is Sir Pip, personal knight to the Regent, Lord John Hunyadi. We come bearing news of the war, including reinforcements."

The guard looked at the three of them, unconvinced for a moment until Pip revealed a sealed scroll as proof. Keeping the innumerable archers aimed at the three of them, he motioned for the gates to open, but not before asking a question first.

"Have you come by a fair maiden in your travels? She was one of Lord Vladislav's Court, and she has gone...missing."

Victor dismounted his horse and met the guard on the inside of the fortress, waiting for him to descend all of the steps, "No, we have not encountered anyone of that description."

A gnawing sensation built up in Victor's stomach. "Could you elaborate on your description?"

He hesitated for a moment, knowing he would be speaking out of turn, but the young Lady was so important, perhaps this young Lord who had just arrived knew something. His tone revealed as much.

"My Lord," the guard hesitated, needing assurances, "You did not hear it from me…"

When Victor nodded his head, it spilled out.

"My Lord, it was the fair Lady Integra. She's gone missing, and Lord Vladislav II just about beheaded both guards posted at her door. She's been missing three days now, and if we cannot locate her whereabouts, the Regent will have us all slaughtered!"

Frantically glancing around, Victor's mind raced to wild, un-based conclusions. Without hesitation, without pause, he handed his horse to the man and jogged through the market streets, the tanning shops, and smithing corners, to the ruling class district of the city. He had to find Lord Vladislav II.


End file.
